


The Siege

by miera



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of courtship and separation, Elizabeth Weir is finally engaged to John Sheppard. But something isn't right, and their resolve is about to be tested by an unimaginable danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After reading irony_rocks story "Quintessential" I found myself imagining Elizabeth's reaction to John proposing, and Ronon's reaction to the news of the engagement. It seemed to me that Elizabeth wouldn't really believe John's change of heart until there had been some sort of test, and this snowballed into a behemoth of a fic.

**Prologue**

Years ago, on the night that Simon had proposed to her, Elizabeth had lain awake for a long while, her mind speeding happily over what she then thought would be her future.

This, the night of her second – and hopefully last, she thought wryly – betrothal, she lay awake again. Only this time, her mind was not full of happy imaginings.

She should be happy. She had been wishing and waiting for this moment for so long now, but a hint of fear poisoned the rest of her joy. She didn't doubt John's sincerity on wanting to marry her. He had, after all, promised as much last year without saying the actual words. She even believed he believed himself to be decided at the moment. But she had too much experience with John's nature to feel certain that he would truly stay in Atlantis.

There was nothing for it, Elizabeth knew, but to wait and see.

In the meantime, she wanted to sleep but tossed restlessly, until she heard a tell-tale noise that told her she wasn't the only one awake.

She pulled on her slippers and dressing gown and went down the hall. John was tucked away in what had been Laura's room while he finished recuperating from a gunshot to the stomach that had nearly killed him. Elizabeth could hear the rustle of the sheets within before she even opened the door.

Moonlight came in the window, bright enough that she could see the furrows lining John's face as he shifted in the bed. He was dreaming again.

John refused to tell her the details, but after he'd nearly died, he'd lapsed into a coma. She knew from various bits of information he'd dropped unintentionally that he'd had some kind of particularly vivid dream while he was unconscious. She'd been taken from him, or lost in some way. He spoke in his sleep of other things, things that made no sense to her, but at the heart of it was a grief and longing that always emerged the same way, just as it did now.

"Elizabeth," John whispered, lost in the nightmares. His voice was broken and desperate and she crossed the room and sat on the bed without thinking.

"Shhh." She took his hand gently. "I'm here, John."

His fingers tightened around hers and his eyes snapped open.

She'd spent enough time nursing him to know that he wasn't truly awake. But that didn't mean he was insensible to his surroundings either.

"Lizabeth?" he croaked out, his free hand reaching for her, as he had done nearly every time he'd woken up to find her at his bedside.

"Yes. It's all right. I'm here."

Unexpectedly, he grabbed her, pulling her onto the bed and into an embrace so close she could barely breathe. She just caught herself from falling onto him in a way that could have hurt him.

John's breath was hot against her neck and his body trembled slightly. She managed to get an arm around his shoulder, her hands soothing him gently. Her words and her touch seemed to calm him and he let out a contented sigh, nuzzling her hair before he stilled entirely.

She waited a few minutes while his breathing evened out, intending to go back to her own room once he was completely asleep. But the next thing she was aware of was a strong hand sliding up and down her back. She blinked in confusion for a moment before realizing she was still entangled with John in the spare room, lying alongside him in the narrow bed. Light was filtering in the window.

"Good morning," he said, looking slightly smug.

Her cheeks heated, both from his look and the way his hand was touching her back so familiarly. "Good morning."

She sat up, trying to tidy her hair before realizing that her dressing gown was gaping open in front. John's eyes trailed over her body and lingered where her skin was revealed. She couldn't hold back the thought of him touching her there, or of the hand on her back dipping lower than it currently was, and it dawned on her that in a few short weeks, if that long, she could be his wife and not have to wonder any more.

John continued to look at her, but his expression shifted away from the lascivious smirk she was used to and into something closer to awe. "What?" she asked, somewhat defensive from her own thoughts.

He sat up, wincing slightly as he did so, and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. "I just remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"You said yes."

Then he smiled at her, with so much happiness on his face that something within her melted entirely. When he leaned in for a kiss, she didn't push him away.

*~*~*~*  
*~*~*~*

 

**Part 1**

 

Something strange was going on.

Ronon had been patrolling through the foothills around Atlantis for several days, as he'd been doing ever since Sheppard woke up from the coma. They'd been seeing confusing signs in the weeks before their encounter with Kolya and his men – truthfully odd things had been going on since he and Sheppard had run across the Athosians the previous summer. He'd been distracted by the injury to his partner, but now? Things were still confusing.

Rumors flying of raiding parties and robberies of livestock and weapons. Men and women both being taken, rather than just the women. Multiple sets of tracks in the hills, overlapping but never merging.

Yet no confirmed sightings of the Wraith anywhere.

Unease sat in the pit of his stomach as he turned back for the town.

 

*~*~*~*

 

At the end of the first week after Carson released him to her care, John insisted on trying out a brief ride on his horse. Elizabeth argued with him but John insisted, and talked Rodney into going with him "as a babysitter."

When Rodney ushered him back to the mercantile, John's face was gray with fatigue and he was holding himself rigidly. Torn between anger and worry, Elizabeth hurried him upstairs and into bed, checking under the bandage herself. She finally let out a breath when there was no sign of new blood.

The fact that John merely lay there without a single comment while she examined him told her that he knew he was pushing himself too hard.

She fetched some stew for his supper, sitting by his bedside while he ate. Outwardly, he tried to keep up their usual banter, but his eyes were drooping even as he chewed. When he finished eating, Elizabeth tucked a blanket over him and left him snoring lightly, propped up on the pillows and still fully dressed save for the boots Rodney had helped her remove earlier.

Elizabeth wandered back to the café, thanking Laura for handling the store as she closed up for the evening. She didn't know what she would have done these last weeks without Laura to see to the store and Samantha Carter to help her with her duties to the Town Council. Sam was not in Atlantis right now as she was visiting her brother, and both Mayor Hammond and Jack O'Neill, the deputy mayor, were also away, so the council meetings were off her plate for the moment, at least.

As Elizabeth settled at a table by herself in the café, the thought struck her that she would soon have John to look after all the time in addition to all the other work in her life. Hopefully he wouldn't be quite so needful in the future, but then again, knowing him as she did, she doubted this would be the last time he would need a nurse.

And after they did marry, what if there were children? How would she manage running the store and everything else with an infant to look after?

"My, that's quite a dark look. Is Mr. Sheppard all right?" Janet settled herself across from Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry? Oh," Elizabeth stammered, abruptly recalling herself to the present. "Yes, he's fine now. He insisted on taking a ride this afternoon and came close to fainting for his trouble."

Janet got a mischievous look on her face that boded no good as far as Elizabeth was concerned. "What precisely was he riding that tired him out so?"

"Janet!" Elizabeth yelped, her cheeks flushing bright pink in spite of herself.

Her friend held up a placating hand, though she was laughing heavily. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I couldn't resist." They both settled back down to their food and Janet continued. "And you have to acknowledge that he's been far more attentive than usual. The two of you have seemed quite cozy together since he woke up."

"He nearly died," Elizabeth muttered. "Even with John's history of close calls..." Her lips folded together tightly.

Janet's expression shifted from teasing to sympathy and she patted Elizabeth's hand.

Before either of them could say anything else, they were accosted by Charlotte Wittings. A middle-aged woman who was married to the town's postal clerk and notary, she was an infamous busybody. Elizabeth had many good friends in Atlantis, but her independent ways had not ingratiated her with the matrons of the town even before she had "taken up company" with a notorious gunslinger.

"Miss Weir, Miss Fraiser, how are you this evening?" Mrs. Wittings puffed out a breath. She was a heavy-set woman and she had scuttled into the café in a rush. After Elizabeth and Janet gave their token replies, Mrs. Wittings bent down towards Elizabeth. "And how is your friend, Mr. Sheppard?"

Elizabeth grew wary. "He's recovering, thank you. But it's a slow process. He was very badly hurt."

Mrs. Wittings nodded, dripping false sympathy. "Of course, dear. Speaking of the young man, I feel it my duty to tell you, Miss Weir, there are some in town who question the propriety of you taking him in. I assure you, when such things are voiced in my hearing, I've taken your part right along. Anyone who knows you knows you'd never stand for any semblance of misbehavior from any man. But the appearances, my dear, you know, they're raising a few eyebrows. An unmarried woman with a strange man sleeping just down the hallway."

Evidently seeing Elizabeth was too livid to say anything, Janet spoke up harshly. "The strange man you're speaking of can barely sit up or lie down without help at the moment, Mrs. Wittings. The reason he's lodging with Miss Weir is that he needs someone nearby to tend to him and Doctor Beckett and myself are both too busy to do for him." Elizabeth could have smiled at the irony of Janet leaping to her defense when mere moments ago she'd been teasing Elizabeth about this very thing.

Mrs. Wittings drew back, her eyebrows raised innocently. "Well, of course, Miss Fraiser, that's just what I said. But you know how gossip tends to spread, and in this case, two people who are courting but don't have any understanding, sharing a house like this..."

Janet raised an eyebrow. "Would it be better, then, if they were officially engaged? Or wouldn't you still be clucking your tongues over the matter in any case?" she challenged, with a swift glance at Elizabeth. Janet's gaze caught, though, on Elizabeth's reaction before she could hide it.

Thankfully, their companion didn't notice that byplay. "Well!" Mrs. Wittings huffed. "I was merely trying to do my duty as a good neighbor and warn Miss Weir of what was being said so she could be prepared for the consequences." The lady collected herself and departed in high dudgeon.

The two women at the table barely noticed. Elizabeth was looking down at her plate, knowing that Janet's eyes were burning into her.

"Elizabeth?" She forced herself to look up. Janet's expression was speculative. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Elizabeth gulped down a breath. She loved Janet dearly, all the more for her instant and adamant defense a few moments ago. But Janet would want to spread the news far and wide, and John had asked her to keep the engagement a secret until he could tell Ronon himself. In truth, Elizabeth wasn't ready for everyone to know just yet either.

"Before I say anything, I must have your word that you won't speak of this to another soul until I say so," she murmured.

Janet looked somewhat confused, but she nodded. "Of course."

Elizabeth took a deep breath.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Ronon returned to Atlantis after a few weeks of scouting through the hills. He'd seen signs of Wraith activity, but nothing conclusive. What he had seen left him uneasy. They were up to something.

When he got back into town, he learned that Sheppard had moved from the doctor's care to Miss Weir's not long after he had left. That didn't surprise him much. Miss Weir was a strong lady, but Ronon had seen exactly what waiting for Sheppard to wake up had done to her. He doubted she'd let him out of her sight for a while.

If Sheppard even wanted to go. Ronon had his doubts about that too.

Ronon went to stay with McKay and Zelenka when he got back into Atlantis. His usual bunk was at Doc Beckett's but since the doctor had married, Ronon and Sheppard had both agreed they should stay somewhere where they weren't likely to stumble half-dressed into the kitchen and find a young lady there. McKay talked too much, and Zelenka seemed intimidated by Ronon, but the bed was clean and there was water to wash.

When he dropped by the mercantile in the evening, Miss Weir suggested he and Sheppard take a walk. Sheppard rolled his eyes. Once they were out of earshot, he sighed. "I think Beckett told her not to leave me alone for more than a few minutes for fear I'd do something stupid."

Ronon decided to keep quiet on that score. The man was recovering from a belly wound, so he'd be nice.

They hiked over the low hills rising between Atlantis and the river. Sheppard was moving slowly still, but Ronon got the sense that something else was changed. With another man he would've put it down to the aftereffects of such a close brush with dying, but he and Sheppard had been through too much for too long.

They reached a small rise and Sheppard paused, glancing over at the town.

Ronon waited.

"I asked Miss Weir to marry me." Sheppard's eyes darted to Ronon's face.

That didn't surprise him either. At least not much.

He raised his eyebrows. "And she didn't say no?" he asked with disbelief. He held the expression while Sheppard puffed up with indignity for a split second before catching on. Then he chuckled. "Congratulations."

Sheppard nodded, looking at his boots, then back at Ronon, staring intently for a second. He looked almost expectant.

"I get it, John," Ronon said softly.

The other man shook his head, looking over at the town. "I'm not sure I get it myself. I just..." He waved a hand. "This place? There's something here that's worth fighting for. Even if I could single-handedly get rid of the Wraith, there'd be something else." Sheppard shoved his hands into his pockets. "Can't fix everything in the universe, but I can make sure that this place is still standing."

John Sheppard had a need to help people, and it was really no wonder that Atlantis had gotten so under his skin. Ronon could understand that. He wasn't immune to the charms of the town, especially the charms of a particularly feisty midwife who somehow managed to overpower him and everyone else despite barely coming to his shoulder. But Ronon wasn't the kind of man who could settle someplace. He knew it and so did Miss Fraiser, even if there'd been plenty of times he wished things were different, for Janet's sake and his. But he couldn't change who he was and what he had sworn to do to the Wraith. He couldn't help the slight feeling of being abandoned by his old friend now.

Aloud he only said, "And here I thought it was you lusting after that pretty store owner with the green eyes and the nice-"

"Hey!" Sheppard interrupted. "That's my future wife you're talking about." The corner of his mouth twitched up.

Ronon held up his hands, grinning.

They started to walk back. "You'll stand up with me, right?"

"Count on it."

"Good." Sheppard had one other thing to say. "Ronon? Make sure I don't do anything stupid."

"Bit late for that, isn't it?"

That earned him a small shove.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Though John was recovering remarkably well, it was taking a long time for his body to regain its strength, and Carson had fretted quietly to Elizabeth that John might never truly get over the experience. Certain simple tasks had caused him enormous frustration, which she learned first-hand not long after Ronon had come back to Atlantis.

He had somehow badgered Ronon and Rodney into helping him haul enough water up into her kitchen to use for a bath. Now that the weather was warmer, it wasn't quite such a painful process to wash without spending hours heating the water enough to avoid catching pneumonia. Of all the things Elizabeth envied about Sam Carter, the private room in the Carter house with the enormous bathtub and the indoor water pump were at the top of the list.

Elizabeth was trying to stay discreetly in her room while John was using the kitchen, but she heard sounds that she was sure were profane words he was trying to muffle out of respect for her. When she stepped into the hallway, there was a tell-tale hiss of pain that propelled her to the doorway into the kitchen, only to stop dead at the sight before her.

It could have been worse. John's lower half was covered still by his underclothes. He was holding onto his side, near where the bandages were still covering his wound. "John?"

He started to turn and then froze as he pulled at the injury all over again.

Exasperated, she stepped into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

"I was trying to clean myself up a bit," he retorted, still wincing. "I just..." He trailed off, looking down at her and the tub of water on the table. He sighed. "I can't reach my back."

A devilish impulse took over and she raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Well."

There was a long silence. She did her best to appear completely expressionless while John's scowl grew more pronounced. Finally he snapped, "Are you going to help me or not?"

Elizabeth chuckled. "Not the most polite request, but I guess it will have to do."

John sighed with the patience of a martyr and Elizabeth picked up the washcloth, wrung it out and pushed his shoulder. "Turn around."

She wiped the cloth over his back, her eyes following the thin trails of scars across his skin. With one hand, she rubbed the soap into a thin lather. She could feel his muscles relaxing as she worked and John let out a contented sigh when she washed the soap away with the cloth.

Not thinking, she touched the scar across his shoulder blades. She remembered all too clearly the day that John and Ronon had stumbled into Atlantis after being attacked by the Wraith. They'd both been beaten and John had been whipped into a bloody mess before they got away. She had helped tend to his injuries, and she'd seen these scars at other times since then, but this felt different. Years of memories raced through her mind, of John, of a half-dozen other near misses and narrow escapes. There was a limit to what a body could take in a single lifetime, and John had plenty of other scars besides these. Perhaps he really had reached his breaking point.

John turned around and she abruptly realized his thoughts were traveling a very different path from hers. He leaned in and kissed her heatedly, arms wrapping around her waist and holding her tightly. She grabbed his shoulders out of reflex, aware now of the smells of the soap and his skin permeating the air around them.

As his mouth moved against hers in a slow, sensuous rhythm, Elizabeth realized John was pushing her back against the kitchen table. They landed hard enough to jostle the tub of water. She pulled her head away but her words died on her lips when John's fingers deliberately undid the top button of her blouse.

Another button and another, and she couldn't seem to move. She could barely breathe with the way he was looking at her as he tugged her blouse free of her skirt and finished opening it. When he dipped his head and his lips ghosted against her collarbone before moving lower, following the curve of her breast, she knew she needed to speak, to pull away. Instead her fingers stroked through his hair, holding him close.

John let out a tiny sound, the one he always made when she touched him like that. His mouth covered the hard tip of her breast through her underclothes and even through the cloth, the warm, wet pressure made her knees go weak. She leaned more heavily into the kitchen table as he moved to the other side. His hands slid up her body, pushing her shirt off her shoulders before stroking her bare arms lightly enough to give her goose bumps.

His lips explored her skin and against her thigh she could feel his reaction rather prominently. It occurred to her that John was not the only one who had been changed by the last few weeks. This kind of passionate embrace previously would have left her feeling confused or alarmed as well as aroused. Now her only thought was to arch her body into his. Her legs parted slightly, allowing him to slip a tiny bit closer, and Elizabeth realized she didn't want to stop him. Regardless of propriety or what should or shouldn't be happening between them, she wanted this. She wanted John to touch her, wanted to feel his hands everywhere on her skin. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted to wake up as she had that morning after he proposed, entangled with John and basking in that feeling of safety and comfort.

Her hands slid down the length of his bare back as she kissed him this time, eager and exploring and drawing a groan from him. She could imagine touching him, imagine him coaxing her body into arousal and completion.

_He wouldn't be able to leave her after that._

The thought froze her mind and her limbs like a cold burst of water.

"Lizabeth?" John panted, drawing back enough to look at her.

She couldn't meet his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed with shame. Dear God in heaven, who was she becoming? She loved John, she wanted him to stay, but she did not play games of that sort. She'd always been repulsed by women who teased out these elaborate schemes to "land" a husband. It was contemptible behavior, and she never wanted to trick a man into wanting her.

"Elizabeth." John's voice had hardened and he cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him. "What's wrong?"

He wouldn't let go, even when she squirmed in his arms. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment that she hoped he would take for modesty.

He didn't. As well as she knew this man, he knew her. "Tell me. What is it?"

"I-" she stammered uneasily. "This is..." She sighed, closing her eyes and not fighting against his hold any more. "This isn't right," she said quietly. He prayed he wouldn't ask for a reason.

John tugged her closer, letting out an explosive sigh of his own as he kissed her forehead. "I know. But it will be. Soon."

She couldn't marry him, Elizabeth realized. Not until she had settled the doubts in her heart. She couldn't begin a life with John Sheppard while still expecting him to leave it.

She managed to smile for him as he pressed a light kiss to her lips before setting her away from him. She turned around to discover that half of her blouse had fallen into the bathwater.

John's eyes widened when she held up the dripping garment with a glare. "Um, I'm sorry?"

She twitched her hand and slapped him with a soaking wet sleeve. "Next time you can get Rodney to help you bathe as well as bring water."

 

*~*~*~*

 

Years of working as a midwife had taught Janet Fraiser a number of things. One of the more immutable laws of nature, while probably not written in any fancy medical text, was that spring and fall were the busiest times of the year for a midwife.

This spring was no exception, and after that big storm they had over the winter, she shuddered to think what the fall was going to be like. It didn't help that the multiple Wraith attacks the previous summer had driven away many of those that could afford to leave the territory. She and Carson were about the only ones with any medical training left in the general area.

She had to smile. When Carson had first arrived in Atlantis a number of years ago, he'd had almost no experience with delivering babies. He'd been part of a caravan and was tending on a man who'd been badly cut with an axe. Like a lot of others, he never quite managed to leave the town. Watching the burly doctor when he had to assist at a birth first-hand had been quite hilarious at the time, though privately Janet would admit there'd been a fair number of cases where she was glad to have his aid.

Janet dragged herself along the street through Atlantis wearily. The sun was on the far side of the sky, late afternoon. It had been early morning when she'd been called to Mrs. Bradshaw's bedside, but that had been... yesterday morning? Heaven help her, she wasn't even sure what day it was. She was going to go home and get some sleep, even if the earth opened up right before her and swallowed the town.

That, of course, was the moment when the staccato echo of hoof beats reached her ears. Janet drew herself back and away from the street, watching as a mud-covered rider drew up outside the sheriff's office. Caldwell came out, hand on his holstered gun. After a moment, he turned and fixed Janet with a look.

The two men approached her, and from the other side came, surprisingly, Ronon Dex. The enormous gunslinger had been in Atlantis after his partner had been dangerously wounded. Lately he'd taken to doing short patrols from the town into the foothills, but he was usually back in one or two weeks, rather than disappearing for months at a time.

In the back of her mind, Janet had been wondering about this behavior. It had made sense while John Sheppard was still recovering, but a few weeks had gone by now and John seemed to be making good progress, at least as far as his health was concerned. But neither John nor Elizabeth had said anything in public about the engagement, and Janet had been too busy to press Elizabeth as to why. She had a sneaking suspicion that something was bothering Elizabeth about the proposal, but the night Elizabeth had confided in her, she was still rather upset about John's injuries. Janet hadn't wanted to pry too hard, and the weeks since had been so hectic.

In truth, Janet had needed a little time to get accustomed to the reality herself. It was silly, of course. Anyone who had seen John and Elizabeth together in the last few years knew that unless fate made a tragic intervention, they would end up married. It had been a foregone conclusion for a long while. Which didn't explain the queer little sadness Janet felt. Elizabeth was one of her best friends, and of course Janet was happy that they wouldn't have to wait any longer.

But that hadn't stopped the hint of loneliness, of melancholy, that had struck her when Elizabeth told her the news.

Janet had pushed the emotion away, certain Elizabeth hadn't seen it. It was petty and selfish and she wasn't going to allow herself to think such things.

But it made her wonder about Ronon, John's closest friend and partner. Janet knew that Ronon knew by now about the engagement. If John was settling here, did Ronon intend to stay in Atlantis permanently as well? It didn't seem likely, from what she understood of his character. But she didn't feel it her right to ask Ronon about his plans.

And she was a little afraid of any answer she would get.

"Miss Fraiser," Caldwell nodded. "Seems there's a lady up in the mining settlement in need of your help."

The Sheriff looked grim, but the young rider looked as tired as she felt. "Yes, ma'am. Carlotta, she's, uh, a cook up in the camp. She's in the family way and been having pains for a while now, off and on like. Some of the other gals are tending on her but..."

Janet shared a look with Caldwell. If this young woman had been married to one of the miners, the boy would've given her last name. Which meant she was a whore, one of the prostitutes who followed mining and railroad camps to make a living.

The respectable ladies of Atlantis had waged a number of bitter wars to keep whoring from being added to the repertoire of Kavanagh's saloon or existing anywhere within the town limits. Janet knew how her friends felt about women who sold themselves. Even Elizabeth, with her Eastern educated open-mindedness, tended to look askance on prostitutes themselves, not apparently wanting to dwell on the kind of circumstances that could propel a girl to such ends.

But Janet never stopped to ask how a baby got made. Her business was getting them safely into this world.

Years of experience forced the questions out, even as she yawned hugely. "Can she feel the baby moving?"

"I think so, ma'am."

Janet nodded. "I'll have to pack up a bag and some supplies-" She yawned again and was summarily interrupted.

"You're not going up there until morning," Caldwell stated. Janet opened her mouth to protest Stephen's presumption, but he held up a hand. "Miss Fraiser, with all due respect, you're exhausted. I know you haven't had a moment to rest for well over a week. You can't make that trip in this condition."

"She shouldn't go at all," Ronon growled to Caldwell. "There are signs of Wraith activity all over the hills."

The boy looked startled at the word "Wraith" but Janet hardly noticed. She rounded on Ronon, hands on her hips and doing her best to glare through her tiredness.

"I'll keep my own counsel, Mr. Dex, about where I go and when." She turned back to the others. "I do need to get some sleep and we'd hardly get far tonight given the time. I'll set off first thing in the morning."

She turned on her heel and marched homewards, stopping just long enough to tell Elizabeth and Carson where she was headed. She packed up some supplies and fell into bed for a blissful few hours of heavy sleep.

The sun wasn't yet up when she gathered her things and went to saddle her horse. To her surprise, her horse was already saddled and ready. Next to it, sitting astride his own horse, was Ronon.

She gaped, unable to speak for a long moment. He just stared back, a hint of a smirk hidden underneath the beard. She huffed out a breath and gave in with bad grace.


	2. The Siege

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section contains descriptions of complications of pregnancy appropriate to the time period, including infant mortality. Please be aware of this before you read, if you find such subjects especially difficult.

The foothills above Atlantis had yielded the occasional small strike of silver or gold over the years, although never anything to rival the great discoveries further west and south. Ronon knew from the number of abandoned sites scattered around the hills that there had been a time when men had been willing to risk the investment of searching the area for the precious metals.

That time had been before the Wraith. In the last decade their presence had increased, and mining camps, isolated as they were, proved to be easy targets. And the yields from the mines that did find something weren't enough to convince prospecting companies to move in with their hired security forces to protect the camps.

It was unfortunate, really. Such a thing would have driven the Wraith back.

The LaGrange mine, though, had been producing small quantities of silver for a few years and the mine hadn't played out yet. The company back east had established a small protective force, mostly former soldiers, around the camp. Ronon had passed through here several times with Sheppard, most recently back in the early spring, when everything in the narrow canyon that housed the mine's entrance had been muddy and damp.

Warm weather had brought drier conditions, and now the dust bloomed along the pathways between the tents and cabins within the camp and the hastily built saloon and the two whore houses that sat on the edge of the miners quarters.

Miss Fraiser was directed immediately to a tent out behind one of the out buildings. Ronon, being familiar with Janet's temper, was unsurprised at her fury when she saw the conditions surrounding the woman – girl, really – lying in the cot with her belly swollen and her face red. Janet just began snapping out orders.

The other prostitutes who were tending to Carlotta looked askance at him for following Janet into the tent. Babies were women's business, and the men usually stayed outside. In this case, of course, with no one knowing who the father was, there were no men anywhere nearby.

But Janet, supremely unconcerned with whether it was appropriate for him to be there or not, told him to bring fresh water and wood for a fire. More than once, especially when he was hurt, he had chafed at her despotic tendencies, but he'd also learned there was no arguing with her. He nodded, moving swiftly through the camp. One of the mine bosses tried to oppose anyone taking the camp's firewood but Ronon had a good foot of height on the man and one glare settled the question.

He revived the small fire outside the tent and set the water to heat over it. The owner of one of the brothels came out to stare at him, cradling a shotgun pointedly. Ronon stared back until the man went back inside.

The mine changed shifts. As the afternoon wore on, another woman staggered out of the other building. She was also visibly pregnant, and she waddled into the tent holding her back. Janet was going to have her hands full.

Ordinarily, he wouldn't have troubled himself about it. The little midwife was a force of nature. He'd never seen her really thrown off stride by anything, although Lord knew he'd tried more than once. Usually it didn't take much for Ronon to intimidate a person. He'd perfected the surly demeanor he carried around, used it as a weapon as easily as breathing. He'd finally met his match in the diminutive redhead, something that attracted him far more than he was willing to admit even to himself.

But Janet had been swaying on her feet yesterday, and even now with her blood up from working hard, she still seemed weighed down by something. It bothered him to see it. He didn't like the idea of anything upsetting her. And he knew he wasn't going to leave her up here alone either.

Ronon sighed and resigned himself to spending the night. He decided to go talk to the men who guarded the camp, see if they had heard or seen anything interesting in the last few weeks that might shed some light on the puzzle of the Wraith. It might help keep his mind off other things.

 

*~*~*~*

 

John eased himself off the back of his horse carefully. Well over a month had gone by since he'd escaped Carson's supervision and he could now handle a gentle ride on horseback every day without wanting to pass out. He no longer needed Elizabeth's help to wash and dress himself, though he rather regretted the loss of her company, not to mention proximity.

Though the distance between them was maybe for the best. After the night in her kitchen, where he'd nearly lost control of himself (again) and pushed her too far (again), he was a little afraid of himself. The memories from the coma were a bit jumbled, but he vividly remembered how it had felt to be in Elizabeth's bed. John had thought he wanted her badly before he was hurt. He had no idea how to control those impulses now, especially when Elizabeth seemed to forget almost as easily as he did where the lines of propriety were. When she looked at him like that, with all the walls down, he flat out didn't care about what was proper or about anything except touching her. With both of them in this state, it was perhaps better that they weren't in such close contact.

Elizabeth seemed heartily glad that he was managing so well, but since that same night in the kitchen, she was quieter and withdrawn from him somehow. She tried valiantly to hide it, and with anyone else she might have succeeded, but not with him.

At first he thought she was simply worrying about his recovery and how long it might take, but now that he was well on his way to being self-sufficient again, he realized that she hadn't spoken at all about the engagement. When he was still limping around and weak as a kitten, he assumed she wanted to wait until he was healthier before making plans. But day by day, he got stronger and the silence stretched.

She still didn't believe him.

And John didn't know how to make her believe, except to show her he meant it.

Which meant making real plans for the future. He could accept forced idleness in the name of recovering, but he was already starting to chafe with boredom. Much as he loved Elizabeth, he couldn't merely live in Atlantis and have no work of his own. And he wasn't so foolish as to think working as a clerk in the store was a good idea. There was such a thing as too much time together.

Over the last couple of weeks, usually when Elizabeth began to get irritated with his hanging around, John had often gone to Vala's café for some company. He'd been spending a lot of time with Cameron Mitchell, who was in and out of the café and looking exhausted. Mitchell worked on the Ferguson ranch on the edge of Atlantis, one of the most prosperous ranches in the territory. Bryce Ferguson was an old friend of Cameron's.

A Wraith raid early in the spring had killed their hired man and seriously wounded Ferguson. Cameron said the man was looking to sell, go back East and see if his health could be improved. And Cameron was thinking of buying the ranch, which gave John an idea.

"Sheppard!" Cameron was in the stockade yard, was looking over a new foal who was currently feeding. "How're you doing?"

He shrugged, tethering his horse to the railing. "Getting there. Beckett says to stop when there's any pain, but then, if I'd done that, I'd still be lying around in bed."

"With such a pretty nurse, I'm a little surprised you didn't do just that," Cameron said with a grin. John was no slouch in the flirting department, but Cameron could give him a run for his money. John rolled his eyes, walking along the edge of the railing. A pony – a young mare – was standing near the side of the barn, watching him warily. John coaxed her closer until he could run his palm down her nose.

He and Cameron chatted for a few minutes about town gossip and Ronon's latest report on the Wraith activity. Ronon had left town that morning to go with Miss Fraiser on an errand. John finally brought up his reason for visiting. "How's Ferguson?"

Cameron's jaw tightened noticeably. His eyes flickered up to the house, but he didn't speak right away. Curious, John waited. Finally the other man sighed. "Bryce is in a bad way. He's getting headaches a lot, and last week he fell over in a dead faint in the barn. He wasn't even straining himself."

John knew what living with that kind of weakness meant, but he at least had the consolation that he was getting stronger with each passing day. For a man who was used to being able to work, not knowing if he could get better, it would be misery. "What does Beckett say?"

"He says this one's beyond him. Bryce is going to Denver in the morning to talk to his lawyer about putting the place up for sale." Cameron stopped talking for a moment.

"Are you going to buy it from him?"

Cameron hurled the stick he had been holding away with barely concealed fury. "I can't. I don't have the money. Even if Bryce sold the whole thing to me for a minimal profit so he can get back home, I don't have it." Cameron studied him warily. "Why? You interested?"

John shrugged. "I have some savings back East, but not enough to buy the whole thing." He paused. "At least, not by myself."

Cameron looked at him sharply. "You suggesting we partner up?"

John felt a tiny vestige of panic, now that the truth was out and real and there was no turning back. He pushed it away. "I'm saying I'd be open to discussing it."

Cameron digested that. "That would suggest you're planning to stay in Atlantis permanently."

John looked down, fighting not to grin. "Yeah, I guess it would."

Cameron chuckled, then clapped him on the shoulder. "It's about damn time, if you don't mind my saying so."

 

*~*~*~*

 

It felt like a week had passed before Janet was finally able to escape the tent for some fresh air. Her eyes were dry and burning and her whole body ached from weariness. When she looked up, the sky was half covered in clouds, reflecting the setting sun with a strange, yellow glow, like the burning of an eerie flame. She wasn't a superstitious woman, but the bizarre quality of the light matched the foreboding feeling that had grown on her as the day wore on.

Janet shivered.

An arm went around her unexpectedly and she startled. "It's all right," Ronon rumbled next to her. She let him guide her to the fire and set her down on a bench. She stared at the flames vacantly, barely noticing when he put his own coat around her shoulders.

She had been up to the camp more than once over the years, and Janet thought perhaps each time she somehow managed to forget the true filth of the place between her visits. The women in the whorehouses might know all the tricks to avoiding pregnancy that their profession afforded, but basic sanitation was beyond them. It didn't help that the "doctor" who'd been here had died during the fever last year. The man had been a drunken old sot but he had kept conditions from getting impossible. Now there was no medical help closer than Atlantis, which was nearly half a day's ride away.

Her mind churned restlessly. If she'd gotten here sooner, would it have made a difference?

A plate was placed in her hands with some sort of stew on it. She reached to take the fork automatically, but the smell of the food contrasted so strongly with the odors of sickness and death that had surrounded her all day that her stomach turned over in revolt. She bit her tongue to keep the tiny sob back.

"Janet?" Ronon took the plate away from her with one hand. She didn't even register his use of her given name.

She shook her head. She couldn't break down now. It would be a long night ahead and she had another patient to deal with.

But Ronon pulled her closer, bringing her head to rest against his chest and her body trembled in rebellion from too much strain and not enough sleep. With any other man, she would have jerked away. She was all-too-familiar with men who thought all women were delicate little dolls, or worse existed solely for a man's amusement and pleasure. If she gave an inch, they'd take ten miles. So she never gave in, not in the slightest. It usually worked. Even Ronon had been obliged to bow to her will more than once.

But she was so... so _damned_ tired. And it was Ronon, who had certainly faced his own share of prejudices in his life. However numerous his faults were, passing judgment on other people wasn't among them.

For the first time in a long time, her temper and her pride yielded and she leaned against him.

He spoke very quietly. "What is it?"

She closed her eyes. "It... it's too late. I can't do anything..." There was no movement now, no life left. The other women had tried to bring the child for two days before sending for her. Perhaps if she'd been able to get her earlier, the outcome would have been different, but she knew her profession too well.

"And the girl?" he asked lowly.

She winced, though he couldn't see it, not with her face pressed against his shirt. If Carlotta didn't deliver soon, Janet was going to have to try to remove the child surgically, which could very likely kill the girl anyway. If she had Carson here to help, it might have been different, but she was all alone.

Ronon's arms tightened even though she hadn't answered him. One of his hands brushed her hair back from her face carefully. His fingers felt warm against her cheek. "What about the other one?"

A strangled sound, almost a laugh, escaped her, thankfully muffled by the hold Ronon had on her. "She's... old." In truth the other woman wasn't much younger than Janet, but her body had clear signs of other pregnancies, and the life of a prostitute was significantly harder than even that of a midwife. Although the child was still moving, the mother's attitude seemed to clearly indicate she'd be happier for the child not to survive.

Her exhausted mind cast up memories of her own marriage, her feeling of failure at not bearing a child then. That feeling had faded as her husband's temper deteriorated and over the years it had become something of a blessing that she didn't have the burden of raising a child by herself. But now the aging whore seemed to mock Janet's own memories somehow.

She'd begun to cry without realizing it and even as she swiped at her wet cheeks, it was hard to stop with his warm, strong hand stroking her hair gently. She wanted so much to just give in to it, let the tears come and let him hold her for a while. Just for a few minutes not have to be infallible and independent and let someone else care for her for a change. She'd been standing on her own for so very long, and Ronon was a solid and comforting presence around her.

But she knew that time would not give her that chance and she was right. A soft voice called hesitantly from the tent, "Miss Fraiser?"

Ronon let her go but only reluctantly. She grasped his hand for a moment as she got up by way of thanks. His calloused fingers squeezed back before he let her go and she composed herself to return to the tent and the endless battle between life and death that was playing out inside.

 

*~*~*~*

 

It was late evening when John finally made his way back to the mercantile. Elizabeth looked severely harried. It was early summer now, so the store was almost always busy, and on top of that, she was alone. Laura Beckett was apparently not feeling well and Elizabeth had sent her home for the day.

She was tying up the last few customers and declined his offer to help with a grateful smile. John decided to take a different approach.

The shadows were lengthening across the hills when John banged on the locked door of the mercantile with his foot. Elizabeth opened the door and blinked in surprise at the tray of food. "What?" he asked with a grin. "After all the times you've had to fetch my meals, isn't it about time I returned the favor?"

With the store closed, they went up to Elizabeth's kitchen to eat supper in peace and quiet. John simply ate, listening to Elizabeth recount her tussles with a few irate customers and just enjoying the sound of her voice. A contented feeling, which once upon a time would probably have made him twitchy and uncomfortable, settled over him. He wanted to hold on to this moment, put his arms around Elizabeth and just not let go.

Elizabeth concluded her tirade and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He smiled. "Nothing."

He knew he was staring and Elizabeth's cheeks turned a little pink but he didn't look away. She avoided his gaze by reaching for her cup of water. "So what did you do today?"

Deliberately casual, John folded up his napkin. "I went to see Cameron Mitchell. Ferguson is looking to sell the ranch, and Cameron needs a partner to go in on it with him. I told him I was interested."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped open and John's suspicions were confirmed. She really hadn't believed him, not truly. He pushed back his irritation. She had no reason to trust his change of heart, he knew that. All these years, he'd fought against becoming entangled in Atlantis every inch of the way. Now the tables had turned and he couldn't be angry at her for not just placidly accepting the whole situation. She wouldn't have been Elizabeth Weir if she didn't over think damn near everything.

But it still frustrated him.

Elizabeth composed herself. "Oh. What did he say?"

John explained that the two other men were going to Denver the next day to fill out the paperwork, and that as an act of good faith, John would be staying at the ranch while Cameron and Bryce were away. Something flickered across her face, something other than surprise, and his expression darkened. "What?"

She tried to avoid the question, but John reached out and took her hand. He had learned a lot about Elizabeth these last weeks, in particular how she reacted to his touch. He wasn't above using every advantage God gave him when dealing with her occasionally baffling mind. "Elizabeth, what is it?"

She squirmed and sighed. "It might be for the best that you're not staying here much longer. Apparently some of the old gossips have been carrying on about an unmarried woman sharing her house with an unmarried man."

John's ears heated up and he growled in fury before he could stop himself. "Spiteful old hags."

"John," she rebuked him quietly.

He sighed, rubbing his thumb against the knuckles along the back of her hand. "Sorry. I don't mean to expose you to any more rumors, Elizabeth, you know that."

Her fingers squeezed his. "I know."

She would have withdrawn her hand but he held on, raising his eyes to meet hers. His stomach was queasy, but he was determined to get through the rest of this conversation before the moment passed. "I have to think the gossiping would die down if the town knew about our engagement."

She looked away. "Did you tell Mr. Mitchell?"

He shrugged. "Officially? No. But he's aware that I'm staying in town for good and I kind of think he got the message anyways."

Elizabeth didn't speak, and in the silence a sudden, awful thought occurred to him. "Elizabeth, if you don't think... I mean, if you've... changed your mind about-"

"No!" she interrupted, folding her other hand over his. "God, John, no. I haven't changed my mind."

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Elizabeth," he nearly whined.

She sighed. "I'm just not ready to announce it to the entire town. Once it's out, the only question either of us will get will be when the date is going to be set."

He shrugged again. "Then we set a date now, before we say anything."

She tugged her hands free and stood up. "John." She sounded almost petulant, and his temper rose.

"Don't scold me, Elizabeth. It's not a crazy idea."

She rubbed her forehead. "You're not strong enough yet. You're still recovering."

He got up, advancing across the kitchen towards her. "I was in far worse shape than this when I proposed, and you accepted that proposal. If something's changed between then and now, I think I deserve to know what."

"I'm not ready," she muttered, backing away from him.

He gaped. "Not ready for what? We've both been waiting for this, Elizabeth. For years, we've been waiting and now..."

She avoided looking directly at him and John's heart sank. It wasn't like Elizabeth to hide this way, and it frightened him.

"Elizabeth, please just tell me what's going on."

She folded her arms around herself. "I'm not ready," she repeated. She met his eyes this time, and he saw hurt and something like fear in them. He knew she had valid reasons to doubt him, and he wanted desperately to do something, anything to make them go away. Part of him wanted to reach for her, pull her into his arms and kiss her, use what he had learned already about her reactions to make her forget her fear and her worry. Seduce her, if he had to, to try to make her understand.

But he knew her better than that.

Instead he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers and kissed her gently, just once. "I'm not leaving, Elizabeth. However long it takes for you to really believe that, it doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere."

Her eyes shone with unshed tears in the lamplight. "I want to believe it, John, truly."

He kissed her again, then pulled himself away. "I think maybe I should go back out to the ranch tonight." He'd agreed with Cameron that he would be there the next morning to see the two men off, but he got the feeling Elizabeth needed time to think.

She didn't protest, and he folded up his few possessions and left without either of them speaking again.

 

*~*~*~*

 

They had gotten started much later in the day than Cameron would have liked, but Bryce had been sleeping comfortably for once when Cameron checked on him that morning. So he'd gone and rousted Sheppard from bed and taken his time going over the details of the ranch, the animals and so forth, and then packed the wagon himself. The trip to Denver ordinarily didn't take all that long, but Bryce's condition was too fragile for a long trip on horseback.

Finally he woke Bryce, who was now in a foul mood about Cameron "coddling" him. The man had been sitting stiffly in the wagon seat since they left the ranch. His irritation didn't bother Cameron too much. He could see that in spite of the anger, Bryce looked more rested and alert than he had in days. The delay had been worth that.

They ate the lunch packed away for the trip, let the horses rest and water, and the heat and the food made Bryce fall asleep. Cameron guided the horses, comfortably alone with his own thoughts. Maybe all Bryce needed was some real rest, a chance to heal. If they hired Sheppard full-time, then maybe Bryce could stay in Atlantis and get better there. Cameron had his doubts about what the tedious journey back east would do to his old friend. Even if the doctors there were better, the trip itself might finish the man.

As the afternoon began to fade, Bryce stirred. The nap didn't seem to have helped, as he now looked rumpled, and he shifted on the seat uncomfortably. He stretched, putting his feet up and drinking from the canteen, wincing at some pain in his chest. But his thoughts appeared to be back in Atlantis. "So, I guess Sheppard is giving in to the inevitable."

Cameron chuckled. "Looks that way." It was fairly obvious that Sheppard taking a job in town was a major step for the man's courting of Miss Weir. "To tell the truth, I never understood what a lady like Miss Weir is doing with someone like Sheppard."

"He doesn't seem like her type, that's for sure," Bryce said.

"She doesn't seem like his type either," Cameron countered. That entire relationship was a bit of a mystery to him. He liked Miss Weir, of course, and she was a very beautiful woman. She just seemed a bit stiff and formal with people a lot of the time. Part of that had to do with being a lone woman running her own business here in such a dangerous place, he knew. There were plenty of people, men especially, who'd take that kind of independence the wrong way. Though, knowing Miss Weir, she'd slay with a glance anyone who got out of line with her.

Which was why the attraction between her and Sheppard, who was the type of man who got "out of line" with people as a matter of principle, was baffling. Why would any man want a woman who would always be nagging at him about propriety and so on?

Bryce shrugged. "Sometimes you want what you think you shouldn't have." He shot a look at Cameron, who glowered at the dig. However Bryce continued to stare past his shoulder. "What's that?"

He pointed to the southeast and Cameron turned. In the distance something was moving along the horizon. "Horses," he said finally, squinting. "Line of 'em."

"Indian?"

"I don't think so." Indians in the territory were mostly confined to reservations nowadays, although roaming bands had been known to come down from the mountains. The riders didn't appear to be natives, though. "Prospectors, maybe? Or supplies for one of the mining camps?"

"Right. Probably nothing." But Bryce frowned and Cameron saw his own unease reflected in his friend's face.

They rode on, the silence now tense, until they crested the top of a hill. Off to their left was what was what the locals called the "Long Valley" since it was an unusually wide and lengthy dip in the landscape, unbroken by any major rises for several miles. It was surrounded to the west by the foothills of the Rockies and to the east by the ridge of hills that lay between them and Atlantis. They were skirting the northern-most edge of the valley before going down the path towards Denver.

Bryce put a hand on his arm and Cameron's blood ran cold. Well to the south, away from them, the valley was swarming with men and horses. Even at this distance, they could see all of them were armed to the teeth. They appeared to be filing up out of the valley in two lines, one heading northeast and one heading southeast.

Wraith. An army of Wraith.

And they were headed towards Atlantis.

Cameron reached for his gun immediately, but Bryce's fingers tightened on his arm. They had to try and get away unseen.

"We could head for the fort," Cameron said quietly as they watched. There was an army encampment along the South Platte river. "Try to get reinforcements."

"I don't think we'd make it. We need to warn Atlantis."

Cameron nodded. His first instinct was to go back anyway. Carefully he twitched the reins, guiding the horses to turn around and take them back home.

They were nearly back on their way when a shot rang out distantly. Both of them swore and Cameron slapped the horses hard, urging them to a desperate run. Behind them, a large group of men had started to charge down the valley.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Elizabeth climbed the steps into the mercantile carefully, carrying two mugs of tea, one for herself and one for Laura. The younger woman took the cup gratefully. She looked tired, and though she said she felt all right, it was clear her stomach was still bothering her. Elizabeth was beginning to worry. It had been over a week that Laura had been unwell and selfishly Elizabeth knew she couldn't handle the store on her own.

There was currently a lull in the customers, though, probably due to the mid-afternoon hour. The street outside was quiet. The older children in town were needed to work at home just now, so the school was closed for a few weeks. Daniel Jackson, the schoolteacher, had taken advantage of this to go to St. Louis to visit friends. The saloon wouldn't open for another hour yet, and even the café had been nearly deserted.

Savoring the peace, Elizabeth retreated to her office. Though she intended to go over some invoices, she found herself staring absently at the tea and trying not to yawn.

She'd been awake far into the night, arguing with herself over what to do about John. She tried to convince herself that his departure for the ranch was indicative of him not truly being ready to settle down, but in her heart she knew that wasn't true. He'd left in order to give her room to think, not because he didn't want to stay.

All night she'd been uncomfortably conscious of the emptiness of the spare room at the end of the hall. It was strange how quickly she'd gotten used to John being there all the time. She pursed her lips at the irony. All those years waiting for John to come back after his extended trips, and within a few short weeks she couldn't bear to be apart from him for a night.

By three in the morning she had been pacing back and forth, getting angrier by the minute. Why couldn't she say yes? What was wrong with her? Was she fundamentally incapable of accepting happiness? She'd had good reason to be hesitant when John proposed to her weeks ago, even if she knew John always kept his promises, no matter what. But he'd been injured and weak when he proposed. It had been prudent for her to wait and give him time to consider whether he had made a mistake.

Weeks had gone by. Without her saying a single word, John had begun to look for work, to make plans to stay in Atlantis, completely on his own. She could not have asked for a more blatant sign that he was certain about settling down and making a home here.

So why wasn't she happy? Was she that fickle to only want a man when she couldn't have him? That when he was standing before her, offering her everything she'd said she wanted, she lost interest? The thought had tortured her until she fell into bed at dawn for a couple hours of restless sleep.

Elizabeth ran a finger around the edge of the mug in her hand. John wasn't going to leave. She knew that, just as surely as she knew that she loved him.

Marriage was about more than love, of course. Compatibility, respect and trust were vitally important. Elizabeth remembered talking to her mother when Simon had first been courting her about how generous and respectful he had been. John, of course, wasn't quite the gentleman Simon had been, but if his words weren't always dignified and his actions always proper, she knew he always respected her. And she trusted John, of course.

Something nagged at her. She did trust him. She trusted John with her life. Shouldn't that mean she could trust him with her body, her heart?

Elizabeth couldn't quite pin down why the question bothered her so, but before she could pursue the thought, Laura called for her in the front of the store. Elizabeth set down her cooling tea and went back to work.

 

*~*~*~*

 

It was late afternoon when Ronon placed the last shovel of dirt over the second grave.

Janet stood mute and still alongside the three or four women who'd come to witness the burial. There were black circles under her eyes and Ronon suspected it was only sheer force of will keeping her from keeling over.

Carlotta and her unborn child had died during the night. He didn't want to think too much about what Janet had been forced to try and do to save them. In the morning, the other baby had been delivered safely, but Janet's relief was short-lived. The little boy had been pale and blue and had grown weaker with each hour. A couple of hours ago, he found Janet holding the still bundle of blankets in her arms.

The camp had no official grave digger. Ronon had taken a shovel and done the task himself, knowing that Janet wouldn't leave even a dead whore and a dead whore's child to be tossed into whatever shallow grave the saloon owner bothered to scratch out.

He stepped aside, and the other women began to place rocks over the mounds of earth, to keep animals from digging into the spot.

There were still blood stains on Janet's skirt. When she had emerged from the tent this afternoon, she had been a complete mess, blood smeared on her apron, her shirt and her arms. One of the women had brought her water to wash and Ronon had silently handed her his extra shirt to change into. She had thrown her ruined shirt and apron into the fire viciously. Now at least she was a little cleaner. The look in her eyes haunted him, though.

Ronon put a hand on her shoulder gently. "Let's go."

It was stupid, really, to leave the protection of the camp. They wouldn't make it more than halfway back to Atlantis before they ran out of daylight and the clouds building across the sky threatened rain. But she looked so hollowed out and tired, he couldn't stand the thought of making her stay in this place any longer.

She only nodded in assent. He packed their things and saddled the horses. By the time he returned to the small campfire, Janet was asleep sitting upright on the bench. Ronon hesitated for a moment before lifting her up in his arms. He managed to get her to climb up onto his horse without her waking fully. He swung himself up, wrapping an arm around her and holding the reins with his other hand. With Janet's horse tethered to his own, and Janet asleep in front of him, he guided the horse down the trail and away from the camp.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Cameron rode as if the devil were after him. Which had been the case until a short while ago.

He bent low over the horse's neck, blocking out the pain from the bullets lodged in his arm and his side. Even though the Wraith army he and Bryce had run into had stopped pursuing him, he couldn't rest yet.

Cameron doubted that he would ever forget Bryce Ferguson's face, gray with pain and fatigue, grabbing the reins to the wagon and halting the horses as they fled. When Cameron stared in confusion, Bryce shook his head towards the horizon, towards and Atlantis and said one word, "Go."

He had wanted to argue. He had wanted to deny that any of it was happening. But it was already too late.

He had left one of his guns and his extra ammunition with Bryce, who crawled into the back of the wagon, staying low, armed with a rifle and two smaller guns. Cameron slashed the reins, freeing the horses before he climbed up on the back of the nearest one. Then he'd paused to look into the wagon one last time.

"The ranch is yours. The will's on file with the lawyers," Bryce had said.

"Bryce-" He hadn't known what else to say.

"Get out of here, Mitchell. I'll kill as many of the bastards as I can, but you need to get back and warn them."

Cameron was pretty sure the Wraith had torched the wagon. He prayed his old friend had died before that happened.

Bryce Ferguson's last act in this world had been to sacrifice himself so Cameron could warn Atlantis. Cameron had no intention of letting that act go to waste.


	3. The Siege

Janet finally came fully awake to the sound of heavy rain and the tiny crackling noises of a fire. She opened her eyes to see a few sticks of flame burning before her. Overhead was dull stone – an outcropping of rock that was sheltering them from the downpour she could see beyond their horses. She dimly remembered riding from the camp and then Ronon waking her enough to get her off his horse. She had worried down some crackers he gave her and then fell asleep again as soon as he urged her to lie down.

Ronon's body was a solid wall of heat behind her. Although she knew it rationally, it was a slight shock to realize just how big he was. Her head was below his chin and her feet barely reached down to his knees. He had slung an arm around her waist in his sleep, the heavy weight of it keeping her close.

It should have felt uncomfortable. Though it had been years since Ronon and John had first come to Atlantis and she had found herself caring for his injuries for the first (but not last) time, she didn't know him all that well. And having him holding her like this, trapping her in effect, should have been too intimate. But it didn't feel uncomfortable. She felt safe, and the feeling wasn't nearly as smothering as she would have expected it to be.

She turned carefully onto her back and Ronon stirred, blinking at her slowly. His expression was unusually open and direct. He spent so much time scowling at the world, and his life was so full of violence, it was easy to forget that he was fairly young, and that he had the capacity for great kindness.

She'd had proof enough of that in the way he'd been taking care of her since they left Atlantis. Though he'd been a friend to her in the past, and she knew he was loyal to a fault, she'd never seen him behaving this way with anyone. Through the fugue of the last two days of misery, Janet wouldn't soon forget the way he'd been supporting her through all of it. Thinking back on her initial opposition to him coming with her, she felt like a fool.

He looked at her expectantly. She nodded a little. Then, on impulse, she stretched up and brushed a kiss against his mouth.

She intended it only to be a thank you and an apology for her own stubbornness. She hadn't been counting on the flicker of heat – of longing – that went across his face. He wiped it away but not soon enough.

Something within her warmed in response. Something that hadn't been fully awake for a long, long time.

Janet knew there were many reasons not to do what she was now thinking of doing, the least of which being that she was exhausted and emotionally drained by the last few days, and that they were out here in the middle of nowhere and needed to be mindful of their surroundings. But the rain beating down just a few feet away seemed to cocoon them in this tiny space under the rocks. Atlantis and civilization and propriety all seemed very far away. She was abruptly aware of his body, radiating warmth along her side, and the pressure of the arm he hadn't removed from her stomach.

It had been much longer than she cared to think about since she'd had a man this close to her, and not because of sickness or because she was tending to an injury.

He started to pull away, his face closing down at her hesitation. Janet grabbed his arm, using it as leverage to flip onto her side facing him. Her other hand cupped his cheek and she kissed him again.

His lips were slightly chapped underneath his beard, but he kissed her back. Ronon was hesitating, though. The kiss was polite and delicate and Janet felt herself get almost angry with him. She had appreciated his tenderness before, but she didn't want it now. No woman would want to crawl into bed with this man for his politeness.

The thought brought her up short, because she wasn't sure when in her head this had gone from kissing to wanting more than that. Even kissing him like this wasn't something she should be indulging in. Going farther than that would be dangerous in more ways than one. But he seemed to be catching up even as she thought to stop. The arm around her waist tightened and he rolled backwards, dragging her body flush against his. His other hand cradled the back of her head and Ronon kissed her harder, coaxing her lips to part and kindling a furnace inside of her body almost instantly.

Concerns about propriety faded at the feel of his broad chest against hers. She could smell his scent underneath the leather and smoke from the fire and the damp from the rain. He smelled wonderful and the tiny droplets of rain scattering over them felt like a benediction, washing away the scents of blood and death from the camp, and that feeling of freedom and cleanness did more to spur her response than anything else.

Janet let her body fall fully against his, reveling in the feel of his reaction against her leg and the answering heat low inside her belly. She kissed him back eagerly. She felt flushed with energy, even though logically she knew she was still tired and probably not thinking straight. It was just the two of them here and the rain and nothing else mattered.

Ronon kissed like he did most everything save talking: with power and skill. She had to pull away, gasping in sips of air between the assault of his lips. Meanwhile his hands began to slide over her body. The arm over her back moved lower, pulling her in so that his thigh was in between hers and Janet let out an uncontrollable, pleased sound at the sensation.

Something about the noise made him still. She propped herself up, out of breath and curious. Ronon settled his hands on her hips, looking at her with a mix of open lust and guarded concern.

"Janet," he started, and then stopped. There was a world of meaning behind just her name and she knew what he was asking.

Emotion was running riot through her, but it was dominated by a passion that overwhelmed her. The way he looked at her salved some sore spot she hadn't even been aware of. She felt... beautiful. Desired. _Alive._

She retained enough modesty that she couldn't answer him with words, but that seemed only appropriate with a man who talked so little. She pushed herself upright and, not breaking eye contact with him, reached for the buttons of her shirt. His shirt, actually. He had handed it to her silently when she realized her own blouse was ruined.

She undid the buttons and tugged until the material fell free. The cool air on her shoulders gave her goose bumps, but she barely felt it with the way his eyes roamed over her exposed skin. She had a moment to be grateful she didn't wear a corset anymore, since it was too uncomfortable for her daily activities.

He met her eyes again, and they stared at one another. For a moment, she feared that he had thought the better of this and was going to reject her. Embarrassment began to heat her face.

In a swift move, she found herself on her back again. Her chemise was pulled down and out of the way as Ronon took her mouth again hungrily before trailing his lips down her jaw, her throat. Then he covered her breast with his mouth. Janet whimpered again, a river of heat flooding through her body. She shuddered underneath him as he teased and licked and it was only when cold air flowed over her legs that she registered that he was tugging her skirt and petticoat up.

His mouth moved to her other breast even as his hands shoved her skirts out of his way and dragged her underclothes down enough to insinuate his hand between her thighs.

She wanted to cry out but her breath seemed gone. Years of loneliness seemed to weigh on her as his tongue and his fingers began to caress her, arousing her with a startling speed. Janet buried her fingers in his hair, the thick locks curling around her hands, and just held on.

Her hips pushed into his hand involuntarily as he teased her, the rocking motion something she had all but forgotten over the years since her husband had died. The calloused fingers working between her legs, working inside of her now, felt like nothing she remembered. When his teeth raked over the tip of her breast she found her voice and moaned as her body trembled under him.

He didn't stop. She had barely recovered from one profound release before he was coaxing her to another, and then another. She pulled on his hair, drawing him into another searing kiss even as her body throbbed again.

She lost track of time, aware only of Ronon, his body and his movements and the need deep inside her to feel him. She finally managed to find her will again, holding him off long enough to slide her hands down his torso. She wished he was naked, that it was his smooth, bare skin she was caressing. She'd seen his body before, but not without pain, not when she was free to touch and savor. But she went instead to the fastenings of his pants. He was staring down at her, eyes wide and dark with lust until they shut as she got her hands on him. When she stroked her fingers lightly over him, she was rewarded with the grunt of approval and his hips pushing against her hand.

She shoved her own underpants out of the way, not bothering to remove her skirts or anything else. Ronon settled between her knees, looking at her uncertainly. She urged him closer, whispering, "It's safe enough."

Then he was entering her, slowly and carefully, and tears began to fill her eyes because it had been so long since she felt this. Memories of him over these last few years flashed through her mind at dizzying speeds, and Janet admitted to herself that deep down in some buried place in her mind, she'd wanted this with him since almost their first meeting. She pushed the past away, focusing on the heavy breaths against her neck, the ache of her muscles and the throbbing heat deep within her as it started to spread through her entire body.

They began to move together slowly. When she tried to force him faster, he refused, frustrating her attempts. He kissed her mouth, teased her neck with his lips, his hand fondling her breasts before slipping between their joined bodies, making her thrash wildly against him. Finally she growled and bit his lower lip harder than she intended. He thrust into her in an almost primal response to her actions, and then stilled.

Janet let out a desperate noise when he stopped. "Ronon, please," she begged softly.

He pinned her with a look for a long moment, then muttered breathlessly as he started to move harder and deeper inside of her, "Don't you let me hurt you."

"You won't," she gasped out, clinging to him for dear life. "You wouldn't." Then all she could do was hold on, sinking into sensation and the building tension between them until it exploded. She cried his name against his throat and his hands dug into her hips so hard she knew there would be bruises even as he shook in her arms.

She had no idea how much time passed while she drifted contentedly, not even troubled by the weight of his body on top of her. Ronon nuzzled her neck, his beard tickling her enough to make her wriggle. She felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin. His voice was rough and speaking right in her ear, vibrating through her. "I'd give a lot to do this in a bed."

She laughed lightly even as he pulled away, ruefully massaging his knees. He had been kneeling on the rough stone the whole time, after all. Without his body heat the air was uncomfortably cool and she reached for the discarded shirt and began to settle her clothing. When she was dressed again, she realized Ronon was watching her carefully. He seemed to almost be bracing himself for something, and Janet didn't remember ever seeing him quite so vulnerable before. He reached out and touched her cheek, his thumb grazing her lips. On impulse, she kissed it, smiling a little as her tongue brushed against his skin. His eyes practically glowed with warmth.

The next moment, though, he pulled away, his focus shifting from her out into the rain. Janet stopped, listening and then she heard it as well. A metal clanking sound, and it wasn't coming from the two horses standing off to the side of the overhang.

Ronon doused the fire quickly, drawing his gun in almost the same instant. "Stay here," he said, so low she hardly heard him over the rain.

He disappeared into the downpour and for several endless minutes she waited, ears straining for any sound she could detect.

When he emerged from the darkness again, his face was black and cold. "We have to go. Now."

 

*~*~*~*

 

It was late in the night but John couldn't sleep. He wished he could believe it was simple nervousness over the ranch, being placed in charge of it while Mitchell and Ferguson were gone. But that wasn't it.

He'd gotten used to going to sleep in the extra room at Elizabeth's. Grown accustomed to being able to say good night and have her face be one of the last things he saw before he slept. He hadn't seen her all day, and that hadn't happened in weeks now.

He hated it. He had to laugh at himself. For how many years he had been going weeks and months without seeing her at all, and now he was so tied to her apron-strings one day was too much.

Well, there were worse things in life, John thought.

The rainstorm outside was finally diminishing, but he heard a noise even over the pattering of the drops. A thumping sound, something very much out of place. He sat up, pulling on his boots and grabbing his gun and the lantern.

The ranch was quiet, of course. John edged out of the house and raised the lantern. Ferguson's dog was standing, his nose and ears pointed towards the barn.

The barn door was open. John knew he had closed it earlier.

He approached the barn carefully, the dog at his heels. The rain meant he couldn't see any clear tracks on the ground, but that didn't mean someone hadn't broken into the barn. He nudged the door open further with his foot, and was greeted with quiet.

Half-expecting a shot to ring out, he stepped into the barn. The horses looked askance at him, but they appeared calm. Methodically he searched the stalls and then climbed warily up into the hayloft, but there wasn't a sign of another soul.

He climbed down, scouring the building one last time. A gust of wind blew over the barn, making the wood creak, and John concluded that it was possible he simply hadn't latched the door tightly enough and the storm had blown the door open. He should probably just be grateful none of the animals had managed to bolt out into the night.

He went back outside, pulling the door shut and securing it firmly. That was when he heard hoof beats, heavy and approaching fast.

The lantern was on the ground. John left it, moving to the side of the barn, into the shadows where he could see without being seen more easily. Someone was riding up the path to the ranch at a reckless pace and John leveled his gun, his body tense and sweating.

The dog went crazy and began to bark, racing towards the approaching horse and rider. John recognized one of the horses first, then noticed the figure slumped across the animal's back. "Mitchell?"

Cameron nearly slid off the saddle when John approached. In the dim light it took a moment to realize the other man was covered in blood. "Cameron, what happened?"

Cameron grabbed John's arm tightly. He looked close to passing out. "The Wraith. An army. They're headed straight for Atlantis."

 

*~*~*~*

 

Elizabeth clutched her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. Her nightgown didn't provide much protection against the chill in the early morning air, yet inside her boots her bare feet were sweating.

The rest of her was trembling. The Wraith were coming. Bryce Ferguson was gone. Cameron Mitchell lay close to death while Carson Beckett worked feverishly to try to save him. Elizabeth stood on the porch of Beckett's office with Stephen Caldwell, Marcus Lorne and John. Kate Lorne and Laura Beckett stood nearby as well. The sound of their voices was bringing other people out of their homes and into the street even though the sun was not yet up.

When John had awakened her by pounding on the back door, he'd scared her nearly to death. For a moment she'd honestly thought he was a ghost. His face was pale and drawn and there was blood all over him. He had been the one to bring Mitchell into town and report what the other man had said about an army of Wraith headed for Atlantis.

"You're sure he said 'army'?" Caldwell asked John for the third time.

"Yes," John snapped, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. "He said an army made up of the Wraith gang was coming here."

She shared a bleak look with Stephen. Mayor Hammond was absent, visiting his daughter. Jack O'Neill, the deputy mayor, and Jonas Quinn were traveling for their duties as the territory's Indian agents. Daniel had taken Mr. Teal'c with him to St. Louis. And Ronon Dex had gone with Janet up to the mining camp two days ago. They would have been dangerously outgunned in any case, but the absence of so many men, including Cameron now, made their position nigh on hopeless.

John seemed well aware of this. He was pacing the short space on the end of the porch restlessly, staring alternately at the horizon and at her. "We could try to run for it," he said quietly.

Caldwell's face darkened further. "If the army is actually an army, odds are they've encircled the town already, or close. A few people might slip through but we'd never be able to get everyone out."

Elizabeth's eyes darted to Kate and Laura. Kate was pregnant, as everyone in town knew. A dangerous flight from the town would be an enormous risk. And incongruously at that moment, considering Kate's condition, it finally struck Elizabeth why Laura had been so sick the last few weeks. The look of fear Laura gave her was enough to confirm it.

Marcus shook his head. "It could be a trap, trying to drive us to do just that, try to run from the town where at least we have some cover and supplies."

John nodded reluctantly.

"What do we do, then?" she asked the three men.

Stephen straightened. "I'm going to summon all my deputies to duty. We'll need to announce this to everyone. People need to prepare."

"We should inventory all the weapons and ammunition we have," Marcus added.

The sheriff nodded. "Everyone will have to combine their resources. There's no other way we'll get through this." He didn't add that the odds of them getting through this were not good either way.

John came to stand alongside of her and Elizabeth felt a momentary relief that he was there. Not out in the wilderness someplace, not out at the ranch, which was far enough from town as to be dangerously exposed.

The next thought struck her hard. "Oh my God! The Athosians!" The Athosian camp was on the outskirts of Atlantis. Totally exposed and vulnerable, they needed to be warned of the imminent threat.

She heard Stephen mutter a curse under his breath. "Someone will have to ride out there and warn them."

All of them turned and looked at John. He stared back in shock for a moment, then his face hardened dangerously. "No. Send someone else."

"John," she put a hand on his arm. "There is no one else." She hardly relished the idea of him racing pell-mell out to the camp and possibly right into the arms of the Wraith, even if he was much stronger than when he'd first been injured. But someone had to go.

"No!" he bellowed, ripping his arm out of her grasp, causing several people who had been creeping closer across the street to jump. "I'm not going anywhere!"

"John, be reasonable-"

"I will not be reasonable, Elizabeth! There is a God-damned Wraith army on the way here! I'm not letting you out of my sight!"

The profanity drew a couple shocked gasps, followed immediately by shouts of alarm, but Elizabeth ignored them. John was shaking and his face was not merely pale but white. She'd seen him look danger and death in the face without flinching before, but right now, he was utterly terrified.

She remembered his nightmares, the way he'd been glued to her side since he woke up from the coma, the clues she had collected about what he'd seen in his dreams. He wasn't afraid for himself, he was afraid for her. So afraid he was willing to let Teyla and her people die instead of leaving her side.

Part of her screamed that she had been right to hesitate about their engagement all this while. If John was acting out of fear from some silly dream, he would certainly get over it.

The other part of her realized she had never once seen John look at her like this, so openly.

She drew him away from the door a little and the beginning of a panic in the rest of the town, leaving Stephen to deal with it. "John, just think about this for a moment. Even in your current state, you're the fastest rider we have."

"Lorne could do it," John growled.

She shook her head. "No. You can't ask him to leave his pregnant wife for this, not when we both know you're the better rider."

He stared at her for a long moment, as though he wanted to argue the point some more. Elizabeth stared right back, hating it but knowing the truth. "John, you have to, and you know it."

He swallowed, shaking his head once as if to say no, but he didn't speak. She looked at him, waiting. He wouldn't abandon Teyla or the Athosians, not even for her. John Sheppard didn't leave people behind.

John abruptly grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her deeply, regardless of their audience. She couldn't help clinging to him and kissing him back, just in case. His forehead rested against hers for a moment. "You be here when I get back, Elizabeth." His voice cracked as he said her name. "Promise me."

"I will. And hurry."

His fingers brushed her cheek lightly and then he turned and hurried to his horse. Elizabeth watched as he mounted, giving her one last, piercing look, before he yelled, snapping the reins and charging down the street as if demons were at his heels.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Janet clung to the pommel as the horse struggled down a rough patch of earth on the side of a gulley. Her whole body ached with lack of sleep and stress and hours spent desperately hanging on to the horse and trying to stay silent. Somewhere very close by was a huge swarm of the Wraith gang. Ronon was attempting to slip past them and reach Atlantis.

She could feel the tension in him, and she knew not all of it was the fault of the Wraith. A vicious fight, conducted in whispers a few hours ago, was still hanging between them. Ronon had attempted to force her to go back to the mining camp or up into hiding after he got them away from the patrol that had nearly surprised them under the rocks.

But knowing that the Wraith were planning to strike at Atlantis, there was only one thing to do. She had to go home.

Ronon's opinion of her in that moment had been succinct and incredibly profane, but Janet hadn't backed down.

He stopped the horse and handed her the reins. He leaned close to her ear, the proximity and the warm breath on her neck provoking a reaction in her that she couldn't control. Silently she cursed her body's horrible timing.

"Hold tight to the reins," Ronon said so low she could only just understand the words. "When I tell you, we're going to make a run for it. You have to guide the horse, straight down the gulley and then towards the road."

"What are you going to do?" she whispered. She was confused until she craned her neck and saw him holding a gun in each hand. His rifle was under the saddlebags, loaded and ready.

Ronon's smile was positively wolfish.

 

*~*~*~*

 

John rode more on instinct than anything, sending the horse down the path towards the Athosian settlement at a dangerously reckless pace. Every minute was a struggle not to turn back to the town, back to Elizabeth.

A memory, of a lone female figure watching him ride away from Atlantis, haunted his thoughts. The last view of Elizabeth he'd had in that other world or dream or whatever it had been. _Nightmare._

He fought down the bile that rose in his throat.

This was different, he told himself firmly. The Wraith were nowhere in sight and therefore Elizabeth wasn't in any material danger yet. He hadn't left her, he'd gone to rescue people – friends – and get them to safety. He would get back to Atlantis in time.

Assuming he could persuade Teyla to bring her people quickly. Except there were dozens of men, women and children who would have to be moved, some on foot, which could take hours...

He dug his heels into the horse's flanks, urging the animal to go even faster.

 

*~*~*~*

 

It was afternoon and Elizabeth was cataloging bandages and other supplies alongside Laura in the front room of Carson's office, wishing desperately that Janet was there. Though she knew that her friend was probably safer up at the mining camp than here. And she was with Ronon. If anyone could keep Janet safe and alive through this, it was him.

Carson himself was still hovering over Cameron Mitchell. The bullet in the man's left arm had been removed. The other one had passed clean through his side, which was a small mercy. But Cameron would be in no shape to fight.

There were footsteps outside and Stephen Caldwell peeked in the door. Elizabeth set down the bandage she was rolling and moved out onto the porch. Stephen still looked frazzled, and she could hardly blame him. They both had lost precious time earlier in the morning arguing loudly with Robert Kinsey about the reality of the Wraith threat. After Kinsey made a number of insinuations and spoke outright slanders about John and Cameron both, Stephen had finally snapped. Drawing himself up, he used all the force of his weight and bearing – which was considerable, for Stephen was not a small man by any measure – to glare at Kinsey and bellowed that the man could either help or get the hell out of the way.

It was all she could do not to laugh, or applaud.

Kinsey had finally stalked off, muttering. Stephen's ears had turned red and he apologized for his swearing. It was almost endearing.

"What's our status?" she asked. Other than Kinsey, she was the only member of the Town Council in Atlantis, and since Kinsey was not taking the situation seriously, it fell to her to keep order in the town.

"We've organized the existing ammunition and gunpowder into caches to be placed around the town. We'll get everyone who can shoot a weapon together now, with large groups around Dr. Beckett's office and the jail. We'll gather all the children together in the jail," Stephen reported.

"Why the jail?" she frowned. She would have expected the children to be put in the church.

Stephen scanned the horizon, something everyone in town had been doing restlessly all day despite the presence of lookouts. "It's the only building made of brickwork and stone, rather than wood. It'll be less likely to burn."

Elizabeth's stomach turned over at that. She had eaten a few dry crackers this morning and nothing else, but that wasn't the cause for the nausea.

Stephen stilled, looking out at the southern skyline. The tension in him suddenly became palpable and Elizabeth turned, dread flooding her. It took her several moments to notice anything, but finally she saw a thin cloud near the edge of the horizon. A dust cloud, like that kicked up by horses. By many, many horses.

She whirled the other way, and sure enough to the west was another cloud.

"Oh my God," she whispered. Until that moment, some part of her mind had been futilely hoping that this was all a mistake, or that Cameron was wrong about the numbers involved. But now she knew. This was really happening.

Stephen put a hand on her arm to steady her, but all she could think of was John. There was no sign to the east, and she knew it would take time to muster the entire Athosian camp and move them. But she wanted him back here now. Whatever was going to happen, she didn't want to face it without seeing him again.

There was a cry of alarm, and her heart leapt, but it came from the west, not the east. Everyone turned and Stephen ran towards deputy Bates, who was waving and pointing at something. She followed as fast as she could.

Stephen had taken a spy-glass from Bates and was looking at something. Elizabeth squinted until she spotted movement. A horse, with what looked to be one very large rider, was racing across the open ground towards Atlantis.

Suddenly, in the distant horizon behind the lone rider, something blotted out the earth. It was a mass of men and horses who came up and over a ridge in a great wave. They were chasing, she realized. Chasing the man on the horse, who was somehow firing wildly at them.

"Sir," Bates began but Stephen shook his head before the other man could finish.

"He's too far out yet." Stephen waved to someone and another deputy, a young man named Stackhouse, approached with a rifle. He settled his arms on a barrel and took aim, but Elizabeth knew Stephen was right. The rider and the Wraith were out of range.

They waited in tense silence, watching as the horse approached the city, hooves and dirt flying under the breakneck pace. A knot of Wraith riders were giving chase, but they were behind and falling further.

The rider was close enough now for Elizabeth to recognize Ronon, but something was still wrong with the way he looked on the horse. The men around her sighed in relief and she realized the Wraith who had been chasing him had given up.

The horse didn't slow at all until it reached the road leading into Atlantis, and Elizabeth finally understood what had looked so wrong. Janet Fraiser was perched in front of Ronon. They pulled up alongside the jail and Bates helped Janet climb down. "Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth hugged her friend tightly for a moment. Janet was shaking a little, her hair in disarray, which was no great surprise. "You should have stayed away," she said quietly.

"That's what I told her," Ronon growled, hopping down behind Janet.

The shorter woman glared at him. "I could hardly turn my back on my own town right now. I imagine Carson is laying in supplies?" she asked. "Did anyone go through my office yet? All right, then." Janet steadied herself, smoothing back stray pieces of hair, and marched off towards her house without further discussion, no doubt to collect whatever medical supplies she had and bring them to Carson's.

Stephen turned to Ronon. "How many are there?"

"Not as many as it looks," Ronon said, gulping water from a canteen. "They've got a lot of livestock with them." Stephen's expression grew darker.

"Livestock?" Elizabeth said, confused.

"They'll herd the animals together and stampede them towards the town. We'll have to waste ammunition and energy repelling the stock and that will open the way for the men."

A morbid silence fell on the group and they looked out at the mass of men to the west.

"Why have they stopped?" Stackhouse wondered.

"Waiting for the others to catch up," Bates replied.

"More than that. They'll probably wait until nightfall to attack," Ronon said, staring coldly at the bandits he had just outrun. "Let everyone in town see themselves surrounded and work up into a good panic before they lift a finger." He spat on the ground. Stephen looked at Elizabeth for a moment with concern, as if he feared how she was handling this news.

She steeled herself. So much about this was too horrible to contemplate, so she wasn't going to. "There has to be something we can do to even the odds," she said firmly.

"There is," a voice said behind her. She turned to find Rodney McKay standing there, with Radek Zelenka hovering behind him. "I have an idea of how we can-"

Even now, Radek interrupted with a tiny glare. "_We_ have an idea."

"Yes, yes, but it was really my mentioning of a moat that started it-"

Elizabeth rubbed her forehead, trying not to yell. "Gentlemen!"

The two looked at her sheepishly for a moment and Rodney cleared his throat. "As I was saying, we have an idea for increasing the protection around the town. The fire break," he added hastily as Stephen made a restless movement.

A few years earlier, after a dangerous prairie fire had damaged several buildings, Rodney had suggested digging a large trench around the circumference of the town. It acted as a break for any fires approaching Atlantis, although it had never been tested by a real prairie fire. Mostly it turned muddy in spring and fall and attracted bugs.

Elizabeth wasn't the only one confused, clearly. "Where are you going to get the water?" Stephen asked.

"What water?"

"You mentioned a moat-" Bates put in.

"No, no, that was where we got the idea, but there's not nearly enough water in the town for that, plus they'd just jump over it and we'd all die of dehydration..."

"McKay!" Ronon bellowed, saving Stephen and Elizabeth the trouble.

Rodney swallowed. "Fire."

"What?"

"We use the dynamite left over from the mining company supplies," Rodney glanced at Elizabeth. She did in fact have a crate of the dangerous stuff out in a supply shed behind the store, kept at a safe distance from the buildings. "We can ignite the grass outside the break when the Wraith attack starts, help drive them back."

"Won't that kill anyone too close to the dynamite? And won't the Wraith just pick off anyone who goes outside the town?" Bates asked.

"But if they do not see it happening, we could get people into the trench and use gunpowder as a sort of remote detonator," Radek said.

"Yes, ignite the gunpowder which sets off the dynamite which sets the grass on fire..." Rodney waved a hand in the air.

Elizabeth turned to Stephen and Ronon. She was well out of her depth here, but to her at least it sounded like a good idea. Not to mention they had very few other ideas of any kind anyway.

"We could concentrate their approach," Ronon said, glancing out at the horses milling distantly on the horizon. "Make them aim only for the roads, keep the animals from getting into the town and causing problems."

"The grass fire won't last very long, though," Bates said glumly.

"I'm sure we could come up with something that would burn longer," Rodney said, glancing at his partner.

"The problem is how to get this all in place without the Wraith seeing it. They'll charge us if they figure out what we're up to," Stephen said, folding his arms.

There was a short pause, until Rodney began to snap his fingers. "I've got an idea," he said breathlessly.

 

*~*~*~*

 

John's one small piece of good fortune had been that Teyla already had her people up and packing when he came in sight. He didn't stop to ask how she knew, but threw himself into hurrying the Athosians' progress. They were people accustomed to picking up and moving, but this required more speed and sacrifice of possessions than they were used to. It took too long to assemble them all, and Teyla would not move forward until everyone was more or less ready.

John bit his tongue until it bled from impatience.

Even at their best speed, it still took hours to get them all in sight of Atlantis. The afternoon sun was slanting down on the town by the time they were nearly there. Meanwhile behind them on the horizon, a cloud had risen. Wraith soldiers, closing in fast.

That had an effect on the speed of the enterprise. Fear pushed many into running and John made no attempt to stop them. He wanted to break away and hurry into the town, but he forced himself to linger near the back with Teyla, chiding the stragglers and keeping a wary eye on the horizon. When he was starting to make out the forms of horses and riders, the last of the Athosians were within rifle range of Atlantis. He let out a sigh of relief.

The town had been encircled with wagons and carriages, laden with straw. They formed a protective ring around the entire town, leaving only two roads open on either end. The roads were barricaded with more hay bales. It was a start, although John wasn't sure how effective a deterrent they would be to a stampede, even when set on fire.

Teyla and two of Caldwell's deputies were herding the Athosians in various directions, giving them tasks to do once they had settled themselves. John didn't see Elizabeth anywhere, but in scanning the streets he spotted an unexpected face.

"Ronon!"

The tall man crossed the ground in a couple strides and they clapped arms and embraced. "You should've stayed away," John said.

Ronon grinned in that slightly scary way he had. "You knew I wouldn't miss this."

John chuckled a little. "Miss Fraiser all right?" Ronon's face went dark and he glared in the direction of Beckett's offices. "You brought her back here?" John said incredulously.

"Wasn't my idea!" Ronon shot back.

Knowing Janet as he did, John wasn't that surprised, really. He decided to set the subject aside. "Have you seen Miss Weir?"

"She's helping McKay with something," Ronon said.

That took him aback for a moment, as he couldn't imagine what Elizabeth could possibly be doing to help the scientist, but given the situation, anything was possible. He nodded and turned away, intent on locating Rodney. It wasn't too hard. The other man was standing near the jail with Caldwell, Bates and Marcus Lorne. "McKay!"

It was Caldwell who greeted him. "Sheppard. Good to have you back in one piece." John didn't fool himself about the welcome. The sheriff knew they needed every able body and gun if they were going to live through this.

"Yes, with the Athosians to help we might be able to-"

John interrupted Rodney. "Where's Miss Weir?"

"Oh," Rodney swallowed. He looked anxious and the relief John had felt about getting back to Atlantis bled away.

"Ronon said she was helping you with something." No answer. "Rodney, where's Elizabeth?"

The other man looked close to panicking. "She's... not here right now."

For a split second John's heart seized, picturing Elizabeth on horseback somewhere out there in the hills, but that was ridiculous. Caldwell would never let her leave. He took a step closer to Rodney, anxiety making him glare. "Where is she?"

Caldwell put a hand on John's chest, trying to back him off. John slapped it away. Real fear was simmering in him now. They were afraid to tell him something, and John felt his self-control slipping away. "Where is Elizabeth?" he yelled.

"She's fine, Sheppard. She's just not here-" Caldwell started.

Before he really thought about what he was doing, John drew his gun and pointed it at Caldwell.

"John!" Ronon was suddenly next to him, and around them everything got very quiet.

"Look, this is crazy, she's perfectly safe, just calm down!" Rodney sputtered. John ignored him.

"Tell me where she is," he growled, staring Caldwell in the eye.


	4. The Seige

At least the sun was nearly down, Elizabeth thought. She shifted a little. A rock was digging into her leg and there seemed to be no way to get away from it. Also she was sure some dirt had gone up the leg of her trousers and was now itching against her skin.

Under any other circumstances, she would've been embarrassed about the masculine clothing. Lying in a ditch waiting for nightfall while carrying out Rodney and Radek's crazy plan that probably wouldn't even do anything to stave off the Wraith attack made womanly modesty seem rather pointless, though.

She glanced up. Radek was facing her. He was also lying, stretched out along the bottom of the fire break, waiting. They didn't dare speak much, just to be safe. At least he was close by. She wasn't down here totally alone.

They were under the bridge that carried the road into the northwest side of Atlantis. At the other end of the town were deputy Markham and Paul Davis, waiting like them for dusk, so that they could get out of the trench unseen.

Rodney's idea had been utterly mad, but it had worked. The men rounded up all the wagons in the town, loaded them with hay and some foul smelling pitch-like substance Rodney and Radek were hastily mixing, and then circled the wagons around the outside of the fire break. In the dust cloud that had kicked up, the four volunteers dropped from the wagons and crept into the trench, armed with canteens full of gunpowder and several sticks of dynamite each.

That had been one of the most terrifying moments of her entire life. How she had managed it without blowing herself up or giving away the plan she didn't know.

Once down in the trench, she set up the dynamite as Rodney had instructed and then worked backwards along the bottom, spreading the gunpowder in her wake carefully. When lit, the spark would travel back to the dynamite and set it off, hopefully.

Elizabeth would have greatly preferred being back in town and watching this whole idea unfold, but Rodney and Stephen had agreed the people they sent to do this had to be fairly small, to ensure they weren't seen moving through the trenches. She was tall for a woman, but thin enough, and truth be told, with Janet back and all the useful supplies from the store already handed out, there wasn't much Elizabeth could do in the town just now. At least this was useful work.

Even if it required certain sacrifices of decorum. Not for the first time, Elizabeth wondered if John was back yet. And what he would think when he saw her.

Radek shifted and pointed upwards. The sun was setting. It was almost time.

 

*~*~*~*

 

John paced back and forth like a caged bear. He was as close as possible to where Rodney and the others said Elizabeth was, but he hadn't been able to speak to her for fear of giving things away. He glared at the sunset. Given their circumstances, it was crazy to want the daylight to fade faster, but he had to see Elizabeth with his own eyes. Waiting and unable to do anything was making him insane.

He stalked back in the other direction. If they all lived through this night, he was going to kill Caldwell and Rodney. And Ronon for good measure. What in hell had they been thinking, letting Elizabeth do something this dangerous?

He was going to tan her hide as well. Turn her over his knee and spank her like a misbehaving child for being so reckless. That was his job, not hers. And if he could stop running towards danger and death, she damn well could too.

Ronon approached him silently. John was still not feeling too charitable towards his partner, so he didn't break stride in his pacing. They waited as the sun disappeared behind the hills. Torch lights began to appear among the Wraith soldiers. John ignored them. The lights within the town were being kept near the center, the better to shield the four volunteers when they climbed out.

Ronon glanced behind them and then nodded. "It's time." He cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a call that sounded like a bird.

There was a dreadful pause, and then two figures struggled over the edge and onto the ground. They crouched, running low and whisking behind the hay bales stacked in the middle of the road like frightened rabbits.

John was terrified for a moment. Both of them were in men's clothing. His first thought was that Elizabeth must be at the other end of the town, and Rodney had gotten his directions confused. Then he squinted in the dim light and realized one of the figures was oddly thin for a man. And tall.

"John!" Elizabeth whispered. He had no time to take in her outfit before she threw her arms around his neck. He squeezed her tightly, nearly lifting her off her feet. She was alive, he thought to himself. Alive and safe in his arms and he was going to keep her that way, no matter what. He'd avoided the dreadful outcome from his nightmare. He'd gotten home in time. The painful tension that had been with him all day dissolved and he breathed in against her neck.

Ronon urged them away from the road and John loosened his hold enough to walk. They approached the center of town and he got a better look at her. Elizabeth was... filthy. Covered in earth and smelling like gunpowder, there were smudges on her cheeks and dirt coating her hair.

She caught him staring and blinked. Then her cheeks turned bright pink as she glanced down.

John recognized one of his own shirts, hanging loosely over her upper body. He didn't know where she'd gotten the trousers but they didn't fit well either. The belt around her waist was tightly cinched to keep them up.

Slightly giddy with relief, his body reacted with surprising force to the sight of her like this.

Elizabeth, of course, was never cowed by anything for very long. "Well, I could hardly go out there in a dress!" she snapped at him. John just raised an eyebrow and she sighed. "I think I ruined your shirt." She wiped ineffectually at the layer of dust clinging to the material, which only served to draw his eyes to the way the shirt showed off her figure.

"I can get another shirt," he said, and then leaned in closer. "Hell, Elizabeth, I'll buy one for every day of the week if you promise to wear them for me at some point."

She stared at him, her jaw slightly open and her pretty green eyes glowing with heat. She hadn't looked at him like this since the night in her kitchen weeks ago, with no reservations in her face, just honest desire.

He would have kissed her and John knew she wouldn't have cared that they were on a public street any more than he did just then. But Caldwell's voice drew their attention and he remembered they didn't have time right now. The attack could come at any minute.

Elizabeth squeezed his hand. "I'm going to go change into something clean."

"Don't think you're off the hook, Elizabeth," he said sternly. "When this is over we're going to have a talk about your propensity for reckless behavior."

That got him a raised eyebrow and a glare as she hurried towards her store.

He grinned. They were going to get through this. John was planning on holding Elizabeth's heroics over her head for a long time.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Janet resisted waking. It had been several days now since she'd had a real night's sleep, and with all their supplies in order, she had slipped off to the extra room at Carson's offices to take a nap. Someone would undoubtedly wake her as soon as she was needed. She listened for a moment without opening her eyes, but no one was calling for her or shaking her to tell her it was time.

But something was different.

The room was dim, the sun clearly gone, but she saw Ronon immediately. He stood with his back to the door, staring at her. She began to blush at the thought of him watching her asleep, then realized how ridiculous that was, given... well, everything.

"I told you, you should've gone back to the mining camp."

Any charitable thoughts about him fled at that as her temper flared. She got up from the bed, smoothing her skirts and swiftly beginning to rebraid her hair. "Yes, you made your opinion about that quite clear, Ronon. For all you know the Wraith destroyed the camp before they got here," she reminded him coolly. She straightened and fixed him with her most intimidating look, willing him to step aside from the door. "I have work to do."

He took a step into the room, leaving the door free. Janet went to brush past him and leave, but his hand caught her arm and before she knew it, Ronon had more or less lifted her off her feet. Her back landed against the closed door with a soft thump and his mouth descended on hers before she could do more than gasp in surprise.

She tried to remember she was angry at him. She tried to remember that they were back in Atlantis now, not out in the wilderness, and someone could come in on them here. Except with Ronon pinning her with his own body, they were rather effectively blocking the door...

His tongue teased hers and Janet whimpered involuntarily. There was a Wraith army on the doorstep. There were dozens of people a few feet away. They didn't have time for this, but her body responded on instinct to Ronon's hands and mouth, derailing her attempts to hold on to her indignation.

At length he set her down next to the door. They stared at each other for a long moment in silence. Her mind struggled to remember why she was angry with him. Oh, yes, the condescension and arrogance and stubbornness of assuming he was right about everything and expecting her to obey him just because he was male.

She opened her mouth to give him an epic dressing down, but he leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. His fingers trailed along her chin.

"Remember, I'm looking forward to trying out your bed," he told her in a low voice. Before she could do more than drop her jaw in shock, he gave her a wicked smile, opened the door and left.

 

*~*~*~*

 

They came after dark.

The sun was gone, and the moon was only a thin crescent in the eastern sky. Thin clouds seemed to shred across the sky, the stars peeking through the gaps.

The lamps in Atlantis had been dimmed, the torches kept unlit, allowing the defenders to move through the darkness unseen by the attackers. Not that it mattered, in the face of the wave of men and animals closing around the city like a noose.

The Wraith urged the livestock they had been stealing for months to the front, whipping them into a frenzied stampede. The animals would crash through the pathetic barrier of wagons and straw easily, allowing the soldiers behind them to overrun the town.

The circle tightened inexorably, forcing the approaching riders to queue up behind their leaders, three or four deep in some cases.

When they were within rifle range, they heard voices bellowing in the darkness, "Hold!" Some of the Wraith snickered, thinking it a challenge. The more experienced knew better, and they spurred their horses harder.

Something was happening.

Bright torch lights appeared within the tiny town, arching through the night. Simultaneously, the stacked bales of hay that had blocked the entrances of the roads began to separate. Dim forms could be seen, pitching the bales out into the trench that surrounded the town. It was a fire break, nothing a horse couldn't jump easily...

The leading edge of the stampede was almost to the trench when the first explosion occurred. Then another and another, plumes of light and sparks shooting up into the night. An enormous ring of fire erupted around Atlantis. The animals shrieked and protested, scattering and knocking into the attackers in their panic. They were locked too tightly together. There was nowhere to run. Men fell beneath trampling hooves of horses and cattle desperate to escape the voracious flames that began to lick at the grass.

Then voices began to bellow from the darkness straight ahead.

"FIRE!"

 

*~*~*~*

 

Ronon tossed the last bale of hay into the ditch and ran back under cover of the crates they had stacked near the southern road into town. He ducked down and waited for the dynamite to go off.

His heart was racing, and his thoughts returned momentarily to Janet. He closed his eyes, remembering the way she tasted, her smell, and the feeling of her small fingers digging hard into his shoulders as he pinned her to the door. He knew full well what had happened last night shouldn't have happened at all. He knew that back here in what passed for civilization, it couldn't happen any more. The rules were different, and Janet could get hurt. He wouldn't do that. She trusted him not to hurt her, and he wouldn't let that happen.

Except now he knew what it was like to have her, and he wanted it again.

Well, if the world ended tonight, which was looking likely, him and Janet wouldn't really matter. Although he did wish he could have seen her – really seen her – at least once.

If it didn't end... well, the odds weren't good. No sense worrying about that right now.

The deafening boom of the explosion shook the ground, and the dynamite scattered flames in every direction. McKay's plan, insane as it was, had worked perfectly. The bales of hay, dripping with that pitch-like substance, were tossed into the trench, along with lit torches. When the Wraith were close enough, they ignited the hay, which lit the gunpowder, then the dynamite. He jumped up, aware of Teyla to his left and Sheppard on the other side of the road, both also opening fire over the barriers.

Chaos reigned outside the circle of fire. The unexpected explosions had confused the Wraith, and their attack plan had bunched them up. They were trapped, packed tightly, and disordered.

Easy pickings.

 

*~*~*~*

 

John fired automatically, tracking and shooting methodically over and over. Ronon may have been right, there were fewer Wraith than it had originally seemed, but the teeming mass of men and animals made it hard to tell.

He put aside his six-shooter, knowing one of the people behind him would reload it, and picked up his rifle. The Wraith were beginning to fall back sluggishly, and he was going to take out every one he could first.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Teyla, already firing a rifle with deadly accuracy into the crowd. Ronon was on her far side, blasting away with that enormous gun of his. John didn't dare let his thoughts drift to the doctor's office, some distance behind him. Elizabeth was there, at his insistence, even though all the other women were with the defenders, shooting or reloading. They couldn't afford to waste this chance to reduce the Wraith's numbers.

A shot pinged off the wall behind him and John realized grimly that the shock was wearing off. As they started to retreat, the Wraith were beginning to shoot back.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Elizabeth tried not to be sick on Carson's floor as they listened to the gunshots echoing through the town. Carson was laying out supplies in the order he thought they would be needed, directing her as he went, and keeping an eye on Cameron Mitchell, who lay in the corner sleeping. At least Cameron was out of the woods, as far as Carson could tell. Janet was outside, keeping an eye on the adolescents who had volunteered to help load guns with the others during this first round. Janet would triage the injuries to decide who needed to go to Carson.

Elizabeth wondered how Laura and Kate were faring, inside the jail with the young children and the other woman in town, a Mrs. Smith, who was also pregnant. Marcus Lorne was to pull back from the outer edges of the town at the first sign of any Wraith making it through the perimeter and get to the jail with two other men to defend it. It had been a small kindness on Stephen's part to order it so. Marcus was an excellent shot and Elizabeth knew he could be useful elsewhere.

There was a shout of pain and her thoughts turned immediately to John. He wasn't far away, she knew that. But her heart beat wildly for a few minutes.

No one came to the door. Whoever had been hurt, it hadn't been severe enough. Not this time, anyway.

Fighting off the fear, she steadied herself. Carson put a warm hand on her shoulder. He looked pale, but calm. "This is the worst part, Elizabeth. Waiting for it to really start."

She nodded. There wasn't much else to do at the moment anyway.

 

*~*~*~*

 

John didn't dare move from his position. With the fire burning around the town, they couldn't see into the darkness, and the Wraith had melted back into the night. Where there should have been relief at fighting off the assault, tension soaked through Atlantis as the defenders watched, wary and alert.

Minutes ticked away into hours. The fire began to die down. Rodney and Zelenka appeared, whispering frantically about reinforcing the fire, but it was dangerous for anyone to go near the glow. They would be clear targets against the light.

Rodney muttered something about dynamite to Zelenka, but Teyla waved and they fell silent. Ronon leaned forward, every inch of him listening, and then John finally heard it too. The approach of hooves and metal.

The second wave was on them.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Cameron couldn't get his eyes to open right. When he managed, weakly, to pry his eyelids up long enough to look around, they would fall immediately. The images before him flickered, confusing and nightmarish.

The smell hit him then. Burning smells and charred flesh, mixed with the coppery scent of blood.

He managed to wrest himself awake again. There were cots before him, full ones. Slim figures were bent over them, looking at arms and legs. He rested a moment and tried again, and there, on the far side of the room was a burly figure, leaning over a table.

Beckett. He was at Beckett's office.

Cameron drew in a harsh breath as the memories flooded back. The Wraith, the flight back to Atlantis, vague impressions of the doctor hovering over him before everything went dark.

Cameron had been in the war, and he recognized the stupefying power of the medicines. He slowly started to fight against it. The town was in danger. He needed to wake up.

 

*~*~*~*

 

No one in Atlantis would ever forget the horrible night of the siege. Over and over, the Wraith attacked and withdrew. They had the cover of darkness, and the ability to retreat. The town had the advantage of entrenched positions, but with each new wave, more and more of the townspeople fell.

McKay and Zelenka and those who helped them risked life and limb time and again, racing out from cover to stoke the fires when the assaults came. Compounding the foul-smelling tar-like substance to sustain the fire was hardly less hazardous. Their clothes became covered in the stuff, meaning a single spark could catch dangerously. Zelenka suffered bad burns to his leg when the fabric caught and no one noticed immediately. He refused to go to Beckett.

The adolescent boys hurled lighted sticks of dynamite into groups of approaching Wraith when other supplies ran short.

Those manning the defenses spread themselves out further and further, trying to cover the gaps and conceal from the Wraith where the holes were.

And in the hours before dawn, the wind began to pick up.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Janet worked steadily, tending to patient after patient until just before dawn a lull came. She and the Athosian healers were handling all the non-life threatening injuries. Carson was operating on a man named Walker who had taken a bullet to the abdomen in the last round of attacks. The man in front of her had been shot in the shoulder but the bullet had gone through cleanly. She cleaned the wound, dressed it, and forced him to drink water.

Her limbs shook with fatigue, her eyes dry and burning from the smoke and the dust. But she recognized the figure hulking through the doorway instantly.

Ronon cradled his arm against his chest. Blood was running down his bicep and Janet nearly ran across the room. His other arm closed around her waist and she saw the relief in his eyes, even as she urged him to sit on a cot and snatched cloth to clean his wound.

"It's not that bad," he muttered, gasping against the sting of the water. "Teyla made me come in while I had the chance."

Her hands froze for a moment, and she saw the truth in his face.

The Wraith would be back. They would keep coming and coming, chipping away at the defenses until they could get in. It was inevitable. At some point there wouldn't be enough men to keep them out.

She didn't say anything until she had wrapped a bandage carefully over the deep gash on his arm. She laid a palm against it and looked into Ronon's eyes. She'd seen a great many terrible things in the world, and as young as he seemed to her, she knew Ronon had seen worse.

"Promise me they won't take me alive," she said quietly.

He looked back at her. She couldn't read all the emotions playing across his face, but his eyes were serious as he nodded.

Not caring anymore who might see, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him lightly once. His good arm wrapped around her, holding her tight for a moment, before he had to get up and she had to turn to her next patient.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Elizabeth leaned against John's legs. He was sitting in his sheltered spot behind several crates, and his eyes were closed at the moment. She doubted he was truly asleep, but he needed the rest, so she stayed still. Sitting below him on an overturned box, she practically had her head in his lap. But she was too tired to sleep anymore.

They had beaten off the most recent assault, but despair was hanging thick in the town. Too many had been severely injured. The next time the Wraith came, they would breach the perimeter and get into the town. Once that happened...

Her whole body ached, and she trembled from time to time with fatigue and terror. When John, Stephen, Teyla and the others had been discussing options, she had been unable to speak. Was this truly how it was going to end? Their beloved Atlantis overrun by these barbarians? Her overworked imagination kept calling up gruesome images of her neighbors and friends, butchered and left to rot in the prairie heat as a warning to any others who thought to defy the Wraith.

Once Stephen had left, John had pulled her close, whispering in her ear, "Stay close to me. No matter what happens."

He'd been nearby all night. When she could do no more at Carson's – and Elizabeth had never been a particularly skilled nurse – she had helped Rodney and Radek with their science project, as they were dryly calling it. She mixed chemicals, coated torches with the rank smelling tar, ran back to the store to fetch whatever supplies were needed until there was nothing left. When she was last there, the two men were chattering about gunpowder and examining some of the canning supplies she'd brought them from the mercantile. She decided she didn't want to know what crazy ideas they were cooking up now.

John had moved along the defenses of the town when she did, staying as near to her as possible. Elizabeth knew this probably had not been tactically sound, but the blazing look on John's face had forestalled argument, and no one seemed to find it strange that he would keep so close right now.

She craned her neck and looked up at him. As always, at rest like this he looked younger, even now with the soot on his face, the growth of beard, and the blood smeared on his clothing. She thought of John lying in the cot at Carson's all those weeks ago, senseless and lost in the coma while she sat beside him mutely day after day, praying and sick with fear. She remembered him tossing and calling for her in his nightmares afterwards. She could see clearly in her mind the smile on his face the morning after he proposed and they woke up together.

A fierce stab of regret struck her and she had to blink back tears. Now, with perhaps only a few hours left to them, she wished desperately that they had gotten married before this happened. If she could face the coming hours with the knowledge that she'd been his wife, if she at least had that to hold on to... but she didn't, because of her stupid, silly fear. She let that fear consume her, even though she knew all along it wasn't justified.

John would never leave her. Not truly. She knew that – had known it – for years. Almost from the beginning, she'd always known deep down that while he might disappear for weeks or months, he would come back to her in the end. Hadn't he told her once that he would "walk straight through the fires of hell" for her?

Saying she was afraid of him leaving was an excuse, she realized now. It hadn't been John abandoning her that had frightened her. She was afraid of him staying, afraid that all these years she had been in love with an idealized man who only existed in her imagination. What if the John Sheppard who had captured her heart while floating in and out of Atlantis for four years turned out to be a different man than the John Sheppard who was there every day? She had feared discovering that the reality would be too different than her fantasies, and that marriage would only end in misery for them both. She was pathetically afraid of making a mistake in the man she chose to marry.

Mostly she was afraid of making that mistake _again. _

Simon had abandoned her. Simon had promised to stay with her no matter what and then reneged and proved himself not to be the man she thought she loved. When John was just coming and going randomly, Elizabeth could maintain the happy fiction of her perfect future in her head without having to really think about what their life would be like. When John had proposed, so unexpectedly and so soon after his illness, she couldn't bear to face another disappointment like Simon.

She had survived losing Simon, but she loved John so much differently, so much more deeply. Those depths had maybe not been in her when she'd known Simon but that hardly mattered. If John left her, Elizabeth wasn't sure how she would live through it.

Something caused him to stir, and he blinked, looking down at her. His expression became curious, and she wondered how much of her thoughts were showing on her face. The backs of his fingers brushed against her cheek.

"I love you," she said lowly.

John leaned down and kissed her gently, then rested his forehead against hers. "Love you too," he said, so quietly she could barely hear him, and yet the words seemed to resonate straight through her.

Before either of them could say anything else, Stephen returned. A stranger might not have thought he looked at all worn down, but Elizabeth could see the slump of his shoulders and the lagging way he moved, so unlike his usual ferocity. But his eyes glittered in the firelight still. He hunkered down behind the barricade and Teyla shifted back from the discreet distance she had been maintaining to listen.

"Ronon, Bates and Lorne all think they may wait until after dawn to attack again," Stephen told them. "They can afford it. They know they have us trapped here. They can wait until there's more light, find exactly where the weaknesses are before they waste any more men."

Elizabeth looked up at the sky. It was growing lighter. She hadn't noticed it before, but the stars were fading.

Because she was looking up, she was the one who cried out in surprise when a bright object flew overhead.

It took seconds too long for anyone on the ground to realize that the lighted torch was traveling into Atlantis rather than out. It flew in a high arc, the wind helping nudge it along, heading into the town, towards the wooden buildings. Another one followed moments later, and then another.

Several things happened in the space of a few heartbeats. Teyla and John both whirled up and began to fire into the darkness. Elizabeth stayed down, tracking the fall of the torches as they struck the roof of Carson's office. But Stephen, who was also watching where the missiles would fall, stood up.

The crack of the gunshot wasn't distinguishable from John and Teyla's weapons. Elizabeth didn't realize at first what had happened. Stephen turned to her, stumbling slightly, and she watched him in confusion until he looked down at his chest. Then they both saw the bloodstain that was beginning to spread on his shirt.

She wasn't aware of yelling, as time seemed to slow while Stephen fell to his knees in front of her. She struggled to help him and became aware of another sound beyond the gunfire: the terrifying approach of a large number of horses.


	5. The Seige

Ronon came out of Beckett's office just in time to see the roof of the church catch fire. The building was on the northern side of the town, but the flames were burning on the near side of the roof to him. Ronon wasn't sure the men defending the town on the other side of the building would know the church was on fire behind them until it was too late.

He ran, knowing they had to pull the defenders back. The church was already burning steadily. There was no way to save it. That meant the line of defense would have to be pulled back inside the town. It also meant the Wraith could approach from that area without having to worry about being shot at.

Their perimeter had just buckled.

His back was to the doctor's office, so he didn't see the flames beginning to lick at the roof of that building as well.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Elizabeth pressed a hand firmly against the wound in Stephen's chest. His mouth was moving but he couldn't seem to speak. She had to get him to Carson, but there was no way she could carry him or even drag him by herself. He was much too heavy, and the shouts and close sound of horses and gunfire meant John was occupied right now.

Someone appeared off to her right in the shadows. "Help me!" she snapped.

Kavanagh appeared in the dim light. She hadn't seen him in hours, but he was just as tired and filthy looking as everyone else. Grunting, he managed to loop an arm around one of Stephen's shoulders. She took the other and together they managed to haul the sheriff up from the ground and begin to pull him towards the doctor's. Every jolt made Elizabeth wince, thinking of the damage it was probably doing to the wound, but there was no choice.

It wasn't until they were nearly there that she looked up and recalled the torches. The roof of the office was engulfed by fire already. The injured men and women who hadn't been able to fit inside were yelling, organizing the buckets to bring water. She saw Cameron Mitchell, arm in a sling, helping other wounded escape the building. Carson and Janet appeared to still be inside.

She and Kavanagh laid Stephen down just as he passed out. Kavanagh ran to help with the buckets. Frantically, she felt for a pulse. Once she was sure Stephen was still alive, she pulled off her apron and covered the wound, for whatever feeble protection that would provide. She knew he would die if Carson didn't come immediately, but the doctor was nowhere in sight. There was nothing for it.

Taking a deep breath, she dashed up the stairs, dodging Cameron's outstretched hand, and ducked into the burning building.

 

*~*~*~*

 

The Wraith were clearly not stopping this time. John didn't know why they had decided to attack now, and he didn't much care. Their horses were leaping the fire break, where the flames were no longer dangerous to them, and approaching the barricades. He and Teyla were firing as fast as they could, but two of the Wraith got through.

In his peripheral vision, he was aware of Teyla reversing her rifle and slamming it into the skull of the man attacking her. John steadied his gun, tracking the rider who had gotten past him and firing, shooting the man in the back.

Because he was facing that way, he saw the slim figure run into the doctor's office, which was burning. It took a second longer for him to realize that Elizabeth was no longer with him.

Someone clubbed him from behind and John had to turn and fight, even as he bellowed in fury. Every part of him wanted to run after Elizabeth, but the Wraith were on them now, and he was too busy trying to stay alive to move from his position.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Janet coughed as the smoke began to fill the room. She was directing two men to lift up one of the cots with one of the unconscious men in it and carry it outside. By the shouts, they wouldn't be much safer out there, but the ceiling was growing hot and she could hear the malicious crackle of flames.

Carson was organizing volunteers to carry their badly needed supplies to safety when someone came into the building. It was Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth! What are you doing?" Janet called, covering her mouth with a corner of her apron against the smoke.

"I need Carson!" Elizabeth said, wiping at her watering eyes. "Stephen's been shot."

Janet's heart seized. The two women struggled through the people and debris to the doctor. Carson, to his credit, barely blinked. He waved at the tables of equipment, "Janet, take this over!" Then he ran outside, grabbing his medical bag. Elizabeth started to follow, but Janet called her back.

"Wait! Take this!" She handed Elizabeth a box of camphor bottles. Elizabeth disappeared into the haze.

Janet kept sorting, handing pile after pile to the others, so focused on her task that she didn't notice the growing bulge in the ceiling above her begin to buckle.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Elizabeth hovered next to Carson, her hands shaking so badly she could barely help him with Stephen. Carson was cursing about the dirt, working with amazing speed. He turned and looked around and then yelled for two of the men to help him. "We must get him off the ground, at least. I can't operate on him here." The men gingerly maneuvered Stephen's body onto a stretcher and Carson directed them towards the jail. A ring of men was forming around the building, prepared to defend it at all costs. Elizabeth saw Marcus Lorne barricading the door with his own body.

Elizabeth swayed, scanning the last place John had been, but he was no longer there. Men were running back and forth in confusion. She thought she saw Teyla, using her rifle like a club to strike at someone, but the smoke from the fire was obscuring everything.

Fires, she realized belatedly. The church was ablaze on the far end of town. She saw a mass of men and horses moving there, but her attention was caught by something else.

The breeze was wafting the flames through the air. The upper story of the mercantile was burning.

"No!" Not thinking, she ran towards her home.

 

*~*~*~*

 

The deputy, Bates, was organizing the men to re-form the perimeter line safely behind the church. They had withdrawn back towards the middle of town. A few other buildings were now exposed, and the men were having trouble finding somewhere to take cover, especially since the Wraith had breached the town's edge elsewhere and were turning up behind them.

Ronon was peering through the early morning gloom. There seemed to be a huge force approaching the town from the north. For the first time, his will gave out. If the Wraith had an entire reserve of men waiting, they were doomed. There was no getting out of this, not that outnumbered and outgunned.

He remembered his promise to Janet. He wouldn't let the bastards take her prisoner. Maybe in the confusion he could get her out of here safely. The defenses were pointless now anyway. He'd probably have to tie her up to get her to leave, he thought grimly. He turned back towards the doctor's office, just in time to see the burning roof begin to collapse inward.

Cameron Mitchell was in front of the door, yelling into the broken building, "JANET!"

Ronon ran.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Something hot grazed his leg and John knew he had just been shot. He also knew it wasn't bad, and he didn't let it distract him from the ragged wrestling match with the Wraith who was trying to skewer John with a wicked looking knife.

John grabbed him, forcing the man's other arm behind his back. That got him an elbow in the ribs, right near where he'd been shot a few months ago. He doubled over, pain flaring through him. He just managed to launch himself forward and knock the man's knees out from under him. They toppled to the ground, John on top. He squirmed desperately forward even as the Wraith tossed and escaped. John's hand flailed through the dirt until his palm closed around the butt of his gun, which had fallen at the start of the fight.

He rolled onto his back. The Wraith was poised to stab him. John fired, point blank, striking the man dead in the heart.

The man fell. John twisted out of the way, gasping for breath. For the first time in several minutes, no one else was nearby. He struggled to his feet, staggering towards Carson's office, desperate to find Elizabeth. Then he saw her.

She was standing in the middle of the road, motionless.

A Wraith soldier was before her, gun pointed straight at her.

John raised his gun and tried to fire even as he ran forward, but his weapon was empty. He ran faster, but it was no use. He wasn't going to get there in time.

He wasn't aware of that he was screaming himself raw in rage and denial of what was happening in front of him.

He wasn't aware of Ronon, charging past Cameron Mitchell and knocking the other man aside to run headlong into the flaming wreckage of Carson's office.

He wasn't aware of the wall of men and horses charging around the burning church at the far end of town and coming towards him.

All he could see was her.

Elizabeth wasn't moving, just standing there looking death in the face, and John knew with absolute certainty he couldn't live through this again. He couldn't lose her again. He wouldn't let himself survive this day, if he lost Elizabeth again.

Someone yelled, there was a single shot, and Elizabeth abruptly dropped to the ground.

 

*~*~*~*

 

"JANET!"

He couldn't see her. He could barely see anything. A pile of burning rafters was across the middle of the room. Ronon pulled his shirt up over his mouth, squinting past the flames, trying to see into the back of the office.

Nothing was moving there.

His stomach lurching horribly, Ronon dropped to his knees, peering under the wreckage of the floorboards and fallen ceiling. He saw broken cots and shards of glass, but nothing like a female shape. Maybe she'd gotten out, ducked out the back door? He began to rise when his eye caught on something white.

Over near the shelves, pinned under a beam, was a leg.

"Janet!" he yelled again. He heard a short cry of pain. Finally he saw her. She was on the floor, beating back the flames from the burning rafter. The countertop to her right was wracked with fire and just as he was about to speak, something in a glass jar exploded, making them both duck.

When he could stand again, he saw Janet frantically trying to wiggle out from under the debris. The firelight reflected the tears on her face and she looked like a wild animal caught in a trap.

Not stopping to think, Ronon barreled through the broken wood and furniture. He scuttled under the rafter that was pinning her down and braced his back against the wood. Ignoring the searing pain from the fire, he pushed upwards.

The rafters lifted and then wobbled dangerously. He froze, afraid of knocking them sideways and burying her completely.

Janet called to him unintelligibly but he knew she was free. He forced himself to move slowly despite the burns scalding his back and let the broken beams settle before getting out of the way.

He retreated towards the front doorway, which was rapidly deteriorating. He had to go right now if he was going to make it out that way. The fire was mostly at the front, so the rear exit should be safe. But Janet didn't appear in his line of sight. She wasn't getting out, and he couldn't leave until he saw her safe.

The rafters in the middle of the room had collapsed and formed a wide V-shape. Ronon took a deep breath and two running steps and leapt through the center, avoiding the worst of the flames. He landed roughly in the more stable rear half of the room.

Janet was free of the rubble, but she was unconscious. Whether from pain or the smoke, she had fainted. Ronon gathered her up, holding her tightly against his chest, and made his way through the back rooms of Carson's office and out the door into the damp morning air.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Until the day of her death, Elizabeth was going to hate herself for that moment of paralyzing fear. Her mind had been so focused on the flames eating at her home, she hadn't seen the Wraith until he was standing right before her.

Filthy and ugly, with a scarred face and blackened teeth, he grinned at her maliciously as he raised his gun. She was completely helpless, defenseless and unable to move.

Then someone behind her yelled and before she could even hear the command she dropped down to the ground on pure instinct.

The shot cracked loudly in her ear and the bullet passed so close she felt the heat and the air from it. It struck the Wraith right in his open mouth, and he fell backwards into the dust.

Huffing out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding, Elizabeth pushed herself up on her arms and turned. Cameron Mitchell was lying on the ground a few feet behind her, where he had been summarily tossed by Ronon. His injured arm was bleeding again, but in his hand was a pistol, clearly taken from the body of the dead Wraith next to him. They had just enough time to share a single look before Cameron groaned and rolled onto his back, clutching his arm, and John crashed to his knees beside her, dragging her up and into a fierce embrace.

John's arms were like a vise and she didn't care. She tried to burrow even closer as he held her, chanting her name over and over. She felt wetness on her cheeks and she couldn't clearly say whether it was from her tears or his.

She heard the sounds of the horses that were flooding the town and surrounding them. The noise only made her cling to John even more tightly. If this was the end, they wouldn't take her from him, not if they broke every bone in every finger.

John was shaking, and she felt him turn as someone stopped on horseback next to them. John brushed the back of her head with his fingers and not wanting to, she looked up.

Around them were figures on horseback, but there was something wrong. They weren't covered in rags and homespun, like the Wraith. Their clothes matched and they were all in blue.

Blue. _Cavalry. _

The man astride the horse next to them wasn't in uniform, but the horse, the leather vest and the hat were wonderfully familiar. Elizabeth could hardly bring herself to believe her own eyes.

Jack O'Neill pushed his hat back, glancing around at the burning town, at Cameron and his bleeding arm, and then at John and Elizabeth. He raised his eyebrows, though the dark intensity of his eyes belied the lighthearted greeting, "So, long night, eh?"

 

*~*~*~*

 

It took a long time before Janet could do anything but cough. The pain lanced through her, burning in her chest, but she couldn't get her breath because her lungs felt clotted with smoke and soot. She coughed and choked, spitting coarsely into the dirt over and over.

After a mindless period of hacking and wheezing she finally drew in two breaths in succession. A little of the dizziness passed and someone held a cup of water to her lips. She sipped, in between gasps for air. In front of her was Vala Mal Doran, the owner of the café. The woman had been manning the defenses all night near her own home. She looked as subdued as Janet had ever seen her.

Janet realized belatedly that a warm hand was stroking up and down her back gently. Ronon. He was holding her more or less in his lap as they sat on the porch of the jail.

Behind them, Cameron Mitchell was flat on his back. Elizabeth was kneeling beside him, applying fresh bandages to his wounds, which had come open. John Sheppard was on the far end of the porch, watching Elizabeth intently while Jonas Quinn wound a bandage around John's leg.

Belatedly she remembered that Jonas Quinn hadn't been in Atlantis for weeks.

"Mr. Quinn?" she tried to say. Her voice croaked too painfully and more tears welled up.

"Miss Fraiser," he said with a quiet smile. "Good to see you awake again." Jonas turned to Vala. "If you have any peppermint or Miss Weir has some in the store, it might help Miss Fraiser's throat some."

Vala squeezed Janet's hand and headed for the café. Janet tried to sit up but as soon as she moved her leg she sobbed in pain. Her ankle was broken. She hadn't been sure in the middle of the fire, but she couldn't bear to move it at all. Jonas finished with John and turned to her, lifting her leg up carefully. Janet hissed in agony as he poked at her foot. Without thinking she grabbed Ronon's hand, clasping his fingers tightly to keep from screaming until Jonas began to wrap a bandage around her ankle. The worst of the pain receded and Janet managed to pull herself upright a little more, but she had to lean into Ronon to stay that way.

"Quinn and O'Neill brought the cavalry," Ronon told her, brushing her hair back from her face.

Indeed, in the pearly light of dawn, Janet saw blue-coated men milling about Atlantis. A group of them were working with some townsfolk to keep pouring water onto the half-ruined shape of Carson's office. A few others were inspecting the top floor of Weir's Mercantile, which had apparently caught fire but not badly enough to spread to the whole building. On the ground around the jail and scattered in the café were the townspeople. Families were grouped in little knots together, others were tending to the injured.

The only Wraith in sight were dead.

"We had just finished our last visit on this tour," Jonas began. Jack O'Neill was the Indian Agent for the territory, and Jonas was his deputy. They had left Atlantis weeks ago for one of their inspection trips. "We were heading back for town when we spotted the Wraith massing their army. We wanted to come back-" the young man paused for a moment, guilt clearly written on his face. "But Jack said we'd be more help going to the fort and bringing the soldiers than we'd be here."

"He was right," John said quietly. "Two more gun hands wouldn't have changed anything here, and by the time you would've gotten to us you wouldn't have been able to get out either."

Jonas nodded and finished with the bandage on her leg. "I rode to the fort. Killed my horse, literally, in doing it, but I got Everett to muster the cavalry and we headed for Atlantis. Jack had stayed behind to watch the Wraith and he met us last night. Everett wanted to stop for the night and rest the horses and wait for light, but Jack said it would be too late." A mirthless grin spread across his face. "You know how persuasive Jack can be."

There was a low chuckle from them all. Everyone there had seen Jack O'Neill when he set his mind to something.

"Jack forced them to keep coming through the night. Good thing too."

"That's why the Wraith attacked that last time," Ronon observed. "They knew the soldiers were coming and they wanted to take Atlantis down with them."

Rodney McKay and Radek Zelenka shuffled down the street and sank wearily onto the porch beside them all. Jonas moved to look at the burns on Radek's leg.

Janet looked around. The church was gone, and Carson's office would have be torn down and rebuilt. Some of the other buildings were damaged, and no doubt the outliers like the Athosian camp and Ferguson's ranch had been obliterated. She knew of eleven dead, and possibly more since she'd been unconscious. That reminded her of what had happened right before the roof had begun to fall on her.

She turned towards Elizabeth, who was sitting herself down next to John. He pulled her tightly against his side. "What about Stephen?" Janet whispered, not daring to try to speak aloud.

A shadow crossed Elizabeth's face. "We don't know. Carson-"

Carson came out the door just at that moment. Everyone turned to him apprehensively. His shoulders were slumped and he was covered in blood. He shrugged wearily and answered before anyone could ask the question. "I've done all I can for now. He needs rest. The next twelve hours will be critical."

A shadow fell over the group. Stephen Caldwell had spent much of his tenure in the shadow of Jacob Carter, the previous sheriff. But he was still one of their own, and the events of the last day left Janet, at least, feeling unusually attached to everyone in Atlantis. Even Mr. Kavanagh.

Vala came back with a tin cup. Flakes of mint leaves were floating in the water, and Janet swallowed slowly. The mint was cooling to her raw throat.

"I'd better look in on – wait, what in bloody hell happened to you?" Carson suddenly bent over and tugged on Ronon's shoulder. Janet forced herself upright and craned her neck, then gasped in horror.

There were burns on Ronon's back, dark and ugly under the charred remains of his shirt. Carson began to prod gently and Ronon grunted, "It's not that bad." Janet could see his face, though, and saw him wince.

"He got Janet out of your office after the roof fell in," Cameron said to Carson.

She stared at Ronon. He looked a bit embarrassed, but underneath it the intensity of his expression as he stared back made a chill run through her even in the warm summer morning. She couldn't begin to recognize precisely what emotions were passing across his face, but her heart sped up and she wished rather badly she could kiss him right then.

Carson fussed over his back and Jonas came to help. Ronon leaned his elbows on his knees and let them clean and bandage his back, but when she covered one of his hands with her own, he intertwined their fingers gently without saying a word.

Laura Beckett approached from across the street to speak to her husband. Janet could see Mr. Davis from the bank talking to Jack, Deputy Bates and the man who must have been the leader of the cavalry. In the café, Marcus Lorne and his wife were sitting side by side, Kate stroking a hand over the curve of her stomach, Marcus with an arm wrapped around her shoulders. At a table near them, what appeared to be Mr. Kavanagh was slumped over and asleep with his head on his arms.

They all sat there in the quiet morning for a while, unable or unwilling to move. Presently horses began to approach the town from the south. Some of the cavalry men turned and drew their guns, but it was their own riders who had pursued the retreating Wraith returning. Among them were a few of the townspeople, including Miss Emmagan and some of the Athosians.

Teyla climbed slowly off her horse with none of her usual grace and energy. She walked tiredly over to the group and John and Elizabeth moved over to offer her a place to sit down. She accepted gratefully and took the cup of water Vala offered. "A few of them escaped," Teyla told them. "We killed many of those who ran, but a few got away."

"They won't be back," Ronon rumbled.

Teyla nodded. "Not any time soon, at least. They put all their resources into this attack."

It wasn't the end of the Wraith. Some of them were still out there, but Teyla was right. They were weakened severely by this loss.

Janet glanced at Ronon for a moment, wondering but not daring to think that far ahead. He didn't meet her eyes, though she thought she felt the tension as she leaned on him. But then they were so tired, it could have simply been exhaustion.

All of them looked around at the damaged buildings, the dead men and livestock, the grieving families and the survivors clinging to one another tightly.

"We'll fix it," Vala said suddenly. "Won't we?"

It was Elizabeth who answered for everyone. "Yes, we will."

*~*~*~*  
*~*~*~*

**Epilogue**

 

In the rooms above Elizabeth's store, John finished bathing himself. It was a relief to soap off the worst of the smells from last night finally. A couple of the soldiers had helped him carry water up to the kitchen and John congratulated himself on his forethought at borrowing some clean clothes from Jack while he waited for Elizabeth to wash. He'd taken his only change of clothes out to the ranch a few days ago and although no one had confirmed it yet, John would've bet the ranch had been reduced to ashes.

As he washed in the cold water, he decided that after the wedding, he and Elizabeth needed a real house to live in, one with a real kitchen, on the first floor, and maybe one of those indoor water pumps like Rodney and Radek had. It would make this process a hell of a lot easier. At least the weather was warm.

Well, he thought, after the wedding, whenever that turned out to be.

Once he was dry, he pulled on the clean underclothes and wandered down the hall to the spare room he had been using. Elizabeth was sitting on the bed, wrapped in her dressing gown. The fire had damaged her bedroom, including some of her clothes, but thankfully the loss was minimal and the building was still sound. John put the thought of the repairs out of his mind for now. An entire company of US cavalry soldiers were guarding the town, the Wraith were gone and Elizabeth was alive and he was with her. He could rest now and deal with everything else later.

She was drying her hair, her eyes glassy with fatigue and staring into nothing. Too tired to care about whether it was proper, John sat down behind her on the bed. He took a curl of her damp hair in between his fingers, enjoying the softness of it. He'd only seen her hair down once or twice before. At night she usually braided it up before she slept. He could get used to the sight.

He scooted forward, his injured leg propped up, and pulled Elizabeth into his arms so that her back was against his chest. She snuggled against him, sighing. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed in the smell of her body and the soap. A shiver went through him, half pleasure and half the ghost of terror at nearly losing her.

Elizabeth reached up and brushed his cheek with her fingers. "John?"

"Mmm?"

"I owe you an apology."

He rested his chin on her shoulder. "If this is for not obeying me and running off and almost getting killed, just don't ever do it again." His voice grew shaky over the last words and his arms tightened involuntarily, even as she laughed a little.

"No, actually, for something else." Curious, he loosened his hold enough that she could turn sideways and look at him. "I'm sorry for being such a coward these last few weeks."

He frowned. "Elizabeth, you're one of the bravest people I know."

She shook her head, looking away. "No, I'm not. Not about some things. I've been such a frightened little fool, John."

John sometimes had trouble following Elizabeth's logic on his best days, and right now he was so exhausted and aching, he had no idea what she was talking about. His hand rubbed up and down her back absently while she collected herself to explain.

Her pretty green eyes met his and he hated seeing the tears welling in them. "We should be married by now," Elizabeth whispered. "If I hadn't been so afraid, we would be. And today we nearly..." She gulped, holding back a sob. He pulled her impossibly closer.

"Shh, Lizabeth," he soothed. "It's all right. We made it through this. And I wasn't about to force you into something you weren't ready for. I don't want you to marry me because you think you should."

"I want to," she said, suddenly fierce. "I want to be your wife, John. I've wanted it for so long. But I made a bad choice last time, and deep down I was afraid of making the same mistake." Her hand sought out his and their fingers intertwined. "I wasn't really afraid of you leaving, John. I wasn't afraid of you. It was me I was afraid of."

It took a long while for his tired brain to remember that there had been another man and another engagement in her past. Long before he came into Elizabeth's life, another man had asked her to marry him and then backed out and left her here in the west on her own. John had never wasted much time thinking about him. Any man who would leave Elizabeth was an idiot and didn't deserve to have her in the first place.

But still, he hadn't thought that she'd been through this before and been jilted. He hadn't considered what that error in judgment meant, especially for Elizabeth, who so prided herself on her ability to understand other people. Her hesitation over the last few weeks suddenly made more sense.

He tucked a loose curl of hair behind her ear. "What do you want now, Elizabeth?"

She looked him right in the eyes. "We should get married, as soon as possible."

He blinked. "But... I still don't have a ring to give you. You don't have a dress, or even-"

She placed a finger against his lips. "It doesn't matter, John. No more delays, no more waiting. You were right. We've been waiting long enough."

He thought of the picture from that other life, the one he'd lived or dreamed in the coma. In his head he had been holding up that non-existent memory as some sort of guide. In that place, he'd seen a photograph of his wedding day, and he realized now that he'd been expecting the same things to happen here.

But that world wasn't real, he reminded himself firmly. However real it had felt at the time, this – Elizabeth, warm and soft and right before him, looking at him with love and determination that made his own heart race – _this_ was real. He didn't care about rings or gowns or anything but never being parted from her again.

He leaned forward and kissed her, holding nothing back. Elizabeth moaned a little against his mouth, kissing him back fervently. Her fingers toyed with his wet hair and he groaned in turn as her nails trailed over his scalp and gave him goose bumps. One of his hands slipped lower, caressing her backside as Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck.

Without thinking about it they both shifted, Elizabeth rising up to her knees and straddling his lap. John sank down against the pillows and pulled her with him, gasping with pleasure when her body settled on top of his. Her dressing gown gaped open and he saw the flimsy white cotton of one of her nightdresses, and he was convinced she wasn't wearing much of anything else. The thought made him almost wild.

Her upper body was brushing against his while her weight was right where he most wanted it. It felt like a dream, something too wonderful to be real, too perfect to even think about stopping. But underneath Elizabeth's scent he could still smell the lingering stench from the fire and the fighting outside. That wasn't something his imagination could have conjured.

He couldn't have invented Elizabeth kissing him this hungrily either. She was totally open and unguarded he responded on pure instinct. One palm pushed the heavier material of the gown out of the way to run up her thigh. The fingers of his other hand tangled in the loose curls of her hair while Elizabeth refused to release his lips. Intense heat was building between them and John didn't care. He wasn't going to stop this time.

His body was on fire, and he was too exhausted from the last couple of days to register that he was pushing himself up against her until it was too late. His self-control had utterly fled under the assault of her heated kisses, and he shuddered and stilled, then cursed as he realized what had just happened.

Elizabeth pulled away from him, still straddling his lap and balancing with her hands against his chest. She looked down and then back at his mortified expression, and she started to laugh. "Oh. John, did you just-?"

He covered his face with his arms. She was never, ever, not in a million years going to let him live this down.

Elizabeth began to giggle uncontrollably. The shaking of her body on top of him was too much, so he pulled her down to the bed next to him. He looked at her nervously from under his hands, expecting her to recoil from him in embarrassment at what she had allowed herself to do. But she didn't look angry or even disgusted with the escape of his baser instincts. She looked completely unrepentant, actually.

"Sorry," he muttered, his ears burning with humiliation.

Elizabeth propped herself up on one elbow, laying a hand against his bare chest, right over his heart. "Well, I'll forgive you this time, Mr. Sheppard." The grin on her face was pure wickedness. "Though I have to say, I hope our wedding night will be more interesting than that."

John gaped for a moment at her forwardness, not to mention the utter lack of shame. She was always the one who maintained the lines of propriety between them, holding him back when he became too forward, either by a gentle reminder or her discomfort. Over the years he'd had many, many fantasies about bedding her. Usually they involved overcoming her shyness and kindling her interest through a careful, thorough seduction. He'd never thought that Elizabeth, proper and always dignified lady that she was, would be quite so... _enthusiastic_ about the prospect.

He started to laugh along with her. It was, after all, one of the things he loved most about her. Whenever he thought he'd learned all there was to know about Elizabeth Weir, she still managed to surprise him.

He levered himself up so that he could nuzzle her neck and trail kisses along her collarbone while his hand caressed her side slowly. Elizabeth fell back, lying on the bed under him. Her giggling subsided in a breathless little moan and it was his turn to grin down at her.

"Day after tomorrow sounds good for a wedding, don't you think?"

Her hand cupped the side of his face, fingers brushing his ear, and she smiled at him with so much joy he had to kiss her again. Against his lips, Elizabeth murmured, "How about tomorrow?"


End file.
